Second Chance
by Saratail
Summary: After a horrible tragedy strikes, Hermione wakes up to find herself in the body of another person.. married to a man that she would never have even considered. Will she want to take her second chance to live under the given circumstances of her new life?
1. Prologue

Stumbling through the alleyway, she clutched her purse tighter and ran as fast as she could with her heels on, holding back sobs as she heard the footsteps pursuing her grow quicker and louder with each passing second. There was no way she was going to be able to outrun this man who was so bent on hunting her down.

Dennis Creevy, the young Gryffindor who was once an awestruck little boy who trailed after Harry Potter, along with his brother, Colin, was driven mad by the aftereffects of the war against Voldemort. Convinced that it was Harry's fault that his brother had died in the battle, he had put it into his head to seek revenge against him and his friends. What better target to shake Harry than an attack against one of his closest friends, Hermione Granger?

For months, he had sat there and planned, day after day, how he would slowly break the smartest, most strong-headed witch in the century, which in turn would crush everyone else's sense of security and safety. It was no petty feat, outsmarting Hermione. True, she was a sensible witch, quick on her feet. No mere spell or curse could ever startle her in the least.

But what about in the muggle sense of things? She was a witch, yes, but she was also a very attractive young woman. Women like her attract the sort of dangerous people, intent on inflicting harm. Every woman, whether she is a muggle, a Squib or a witch, is wary of that kind of danger that was so common in the muggle world. It was impossible to pull any stunt like that in the Wizarding world, for there were many protective spells and charms that almost every witch knew of, and would not hesitate to cast in the slightest hint of danger. But out in the muggle world, women were more vulnerable to that kind of threat.

It was the perfect opportunity.

Since Hermione resided in an apartment in the muggle world, she was an easier target. He began stalking her, following her in a sinister manner. Soon, he started leaving threatening messages in her mailbox, cleverly leaving no trait of any magical or muggle background. He watched in satisfaction for a few weeks as he slowly planted the seed of fear in her mind. The most risky stunt he had ever pulled was when he had broken into her apartment in the middle of the night shortly after he had spied Ron getting down on one knee, offering something to her. Furious, he trashed the place. After he was finished, he pulled out his wand and burned the word Mudblood on the ceiling of her bedroom. He could have so easily harmed the slumbering woman, lying so defenselessly in her bed; but he wanted to first harm her mentally. He wanted to truly shake her, and the fact that someone was able to break into her home so easily and intrude on her without her knowledge was frightening enough.

Finally, he decided to pull out all the stops and physically harm her. He wanted to hear her shrieks and screams as he'd cause her pain. He wanted to see the look of fear flicker across her face, the look of being completely defenseless and powerless in the face of her tormentor. A few weeks later, he saw his chance and took it.

Hermione was invited to a banquet to honor her winning the St. Mungo's Top Healer Award in the country. Dennis waited until she had left the party early, insisting to Ron that she had forgotten to put out Crookshanks' food out and had to go back to her apartment. As soon as she stepped out, he took his place as her shadow, following her until she was far away enough from the banquet so that no wizard or witch could come to her aid.

Hermione felt someone tracing her steps. She was not a stupid witch and was on alert, especially after recent events. Pretending not to notice the soft footsteps behind her, she drew her wand and slid it up the sleeve of her robes. Suddenly, she stopped walking, freezing abruptly in her spot. Dennis, too consumed by suspense and excitement, could not stop walking in time, and bumped into her. Hermione, ready with her wand, spun and pointed the tip to his neck.

"What do you want?" she spat, her eyes flashing.

Dennis grinned, lifting his head to reveal his face. Hermione, seeing that it was only Dennis Creevy, lowered her wand, her harsh expression softening.

"Oh, hello there, Dennis," she said, beginning to apologize for nearly attacking him. "I assumed you were-"

She was cut off when Dennis waved his arm suddenly, knocking her wand from her hand. It bounced off the concrete of the road and rolled somewhere in the shadows, lost. He smirked with satisfaction when he saw the confusion on Hermione's face morph into disbelief at his rather odd behavior, and then horror as she realized that he was the one who had been harassing her all this time. She froze, not knowing what to do.

"Dennis?" she began. He looked at her, his hand moving to the inside of his jacket. Her eyes darted to where his hand was now fiercely clenched around something. She knew what was going to happen next. Her heart pumping adrenaline in her system, she did the only thing that seemed logical to do at the time. She ran.

Now dashing into a narrow alleyway, she could feel her legs begin to tire out. She needed to think fast. She threw her purse to the floor, its contents spewing about everywhere. Hermione almost smiled with satisfaction when she heard a loud thump behind her, indicating that he had probably tripped and fell on something that had spilled out of her purse. She looked back while running to make sure that he had fallen down. Unfortunately, she did not see the compact mirror that had flew out into her path. Catching her heel on it, she stumbled once more, falling into a mud patch by the dumpster nearby.

Hermione looked up from her fall, glaring angrily as she saw Dennis walk slowly up to her, clearly unharmed. Wandless, knowing that she did not have much time left, and not knowing what his intentions were, she made a last attempt to save herself. She fumbled under her robes, drawing out a Galleon that was tied around a thin, gold chain. Rubbing it quickly with her thumb, she hoped that any member from the D.A. still carried their Galleon around.

"It's all Harry's fault," Dennis suddenly said. Hermione pretended not to hear him, and pulled herself off the ground. "My brother is gone, and it's his fault. My brother will never get the chance to grow up, have a family…" he trailed off. Catching a glimpse of silver glinting in the faint moonlight, he grabbed her hand and pulled it roughly towards him, eyeing the engagement ring on her finger. "My brother was robbed of his chance to start anything with anyone, to one day present to the woman he loved a ring like _this_," he spat, roughly snatching the ring off of her finger and throwing it to the ground in disgust. "You don't deserve that chance either."

He stopped talking abruptly, and put a hand into his pocket, retrieving a glowing gold coin. Hermione realized in horror that Dennis was one of the members that had a D.A. coin with him.

"One desperate call for help?" he sneered. She remained silent, not missing the sudden flash of fear in his eyes as he realized that others must have felt the burn of the coin as well. He was about to say something else when they both heard the unmistakable loud crack of apparation, followed by quick footsteps approaching the alleyway.

"Blimey Harry, I knew I shouldn't have let her go alone," Hermione heard Ron's frantic voice somewhere ahead. She glanced at Dennis, certain that he had heard his voice too. A bright light washed up on the two in the alleyway, and Hermione almost cried in relief. Ron had come for her. She was going to be saved.

A shot rang out, followed by a loud thud. Hermione fell to the floor once more, blood blossoming through her robes, blending with the deep burgundy that she wore. Dennis had pulled out a gun from under his coat and shot at her ribcage, puncturing her lung. Her breath caught as blood began to bubble in her airway.

"Oh Merlin," she heard Harry exclaim. He certainly knew what a gunshot sounded like. The last thing she saw before she closed her eyes were Ron's tattered shoes running towards her, and heard a hex being shouted, followed by a bright light aimed towards Dennis. She heard him fall beside her in a crumpled heap. Her eyes fluttered back open as adrenaline shot through her as fear settled in her mind. Scrambling, she pushed herself up on her elbows and gestured to Ron to help her stand up. Just as Ron wrapped his strong hands around her arms, helping her gain some balance, she felt a cold barrel being pressed into her back.

"Ron," Hermione gasped, trying to tell him. Ron looked at Dennis, seeing the mad expression on his face as his finger was about to pull the trigger.

"NO!" Ron's roar was followed by a loud, bloodcurdling scream as another shot rang out.


	2. Chapter One

Her eyes fluttering open, she groaned, stretching her arms out. She felt strange, her legs were entangled in fine silk sheets, and her head was resting on such a soft pillow. A single feather was sticking out of the fluffy white pillow, and she pulled it out. Twirling it about between her fingers, she sat up, stretching her arms once again, stopping when she heard that satisfying crack in her back.

Wait a minute. Silk sheets? She didn't own anything silk. She paused as she tried to recall events from the night before. Shivering at what had almost happened, she shrugged the horrid thoughts from her mind. Was this Ron's new house? He had told her that he had bought a new house to move into after they got married. Perhaps he had taken her there after she had gotten hurt yesterday. She smiled at the sleeping form under the covers beside her.

"I like the way you decorated the room," she told him. The sleeping form emitted a grunt in response and turned in his sleep. She placed a kiss on his shoulder and got out of bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she made her way to what she assumed would be the bathroom. She frowned at the sink. Her usual red toothbrush was missing. Instead, it was replaced with a bright purple toothbrush that sparked out pink stars. Furious, she grabbed the toothbrush from the stand on the sink and stormed into the room.

"Ronald Billius Weasly. Explain who's toothbrush this belongs to," she demanded shortly, holding the bizarre toothbrush up in her hand. The sleeping form gave out another grunt in response, then rolled again. Frowning, she walked over to his side of the bed and tugged at his arm, making him roll off of the bed and fall hard on the floor, waking him up abruptly.

Hermione stared in horror at the grumpy Draco Malfoy pulling himself off of the floor, scratching his head as he stared up at Hermione. She watched, shocked as his expression softened as he looked at her, a silly grin breaking out, transformed his pale, pointed face from the usual cold sneer that he wore to one that looked…

There was no other word for it; he looked lovesick.

" You're up," he smiled happily. Hermione stood in complete shock, and then began laughing.

"That's a nice joke, Ron," she said, putting her hand on her stomach. Malfoy looked confused, staring at the woman who was now laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her cheeks in response to something simple that he had said. Hermione shook her head, her laughs dying down as she went back into the bathroom to take a shower.

Silly Ron, she thought to herself. Trying to deceive her with some polyjuice potion. Honestly, who did he think he was trying to fool? She hummed happily to herself, looking around the bathroom from behind the thick shower-glass . She was Hermione Granger, for crying out loud. She held her head high with pride as she reached for the soap. She stopped humming when she thought she heard a click somewhere, and then another as the shower-glass opened again. A body enveloped hers and a warm hand slid down her stomach, making her gasp.

"What are you doing?" she asked, putting a hand over his. She heard a low chuckle behind her as he took the soap from her.

"I decided that it would be my good deed for the day if I didn't waste any water by taking a second shower," he said. Hermione was about to laugh when she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

Expecting to see Ron and herself inside the shower, she saw the bodies of Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, a little more than she was comfortable with. She moved her hand up to pull back a lock of hair, her eyes widening as the image in the mirror imitated her. Hermione heard a third click, except this time it came from inside of her head as a few suspicious thoughts entered her mind. Slowly, she turned around and faced Malfoy as he was leaning in to place another kiss on her. And screamed.

"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT, MALFOY, AND DON'T YOU EVER THINK ABOUT COMING IN HERE AGAIN," she shrieked, throwing a bewildered soapy Malfoy out of the shower.

"Women," he muttered to himself, grabbing the towel hanging on the rack and wrapped it around his body. Meanwhile, Hermione was trying not to hyperventilate. Something was not right. She turned the hot water on to the point where steam was pouring out of the shower and took a deep breath, trying to gather everything that happened the day before.

She remembered Dennis stalking her, falling down, Harry and Ron coming for her. She frowned as she recalled the thin, cold metal of the gun being pressed against her back, but that was the last thing she could remember. She assumed that she had passed out, but this did not fit in with what was happening now. She seemed to be trapped in Pansy's body. She looked down at her hands and saw a wedding ring resting on her finger. It was a beautiful ring, with intricate designs swirling around the band, circling a small set of stones. So she was married to Draco Malfoy.

Hermione wanted to let out another small scream. This must be some kind of horrible nightmare; she was trapped in someone else's body, married to a man that she utterly despised. What was she to do?

She had to set things right. Certainly Malfoy would believe her if she claimed that she was Hermione Granger. She had all of her memories intact, all the spells and books that she had ever come across were safely tucked away in her head, books and spells that she was certain Pansy had never even encountered. Yes, she would go to Malfoy and explain. This was all clearly some kind of misunderstanding. With that in mind, she pulled her bathrobe off of the side of the towel rack and pulled it closed around her, determined to set things straight with Malfoy.

Hermione walked back into the room, surprised to find Malfoy sitting on the armchair that was kept snugly away in a corner. He was still covered in little soap suds, and his sopping wet hair hung miserably around his face, dripping water onto the carpet. He did not notice Hermione emerging from the bathroom as he was too engrossed with the Daily Prophet that had clearly just been brought in. The owl stood by the windowsill, waiting for Malfoy to put a couple of Knuts in the small pouch tied to its leg. Hermione marched up to him and was about to announce to him what was on her mind when the title caught her eye.

Forgetting all formalities, she snatched the paper away from him, ignoring the protests of "Hey, I was reading that," from Malfoy as her eyes scanned the article, making her breath come in short little puffs.

"War hero murdered," she read the title softly to herself. There, on the front page, was a large picture of her smiling self, laughing with her arms around her best friends, Harry and Ron.

"Yes, it's terrible news," Malfoy's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Out of all the ways a witch could go, it's quite disgraceful that she managed to get herself killed by a muggle weapon, that contraption muggles call a goon or something," he said, chuckling to himself. "And can you believe she was murdered by one of her old housemates, no less?"

Hermione looked up from the paper slowly and felt for a chair beneath her and sank into it, the shock claiming her ability to think coherently, not bothering to correct Malfoy that it was in fact a gun, not a goon.

"Pansy, dear, why are you so shaken up about this anyway?" said Malfoy, confused. "You never even knew her. Personally, I thought you would be rather glad that there is one less muggleborn roaming the streets."

Hermione looked up at him, stung by the words that he had just said. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Malfoy looked at her nonchalantly, and then went back to flipping through the newspaper.

"I was thinking of maybe pumpkin juice and waffles would do for today's breakfast," he said, looking at the Wizard Stocks on the last page of the Prophet. When Hermione didn't answer, he looked up to see her. She seemed very much in shock, for she had not moved out of her seat since. Thinking that this would be a great time to make up for his lost intimate time in the shower, he smiled. Perhaps she felt guilty for kicking him out of the shower, and was going along with this ploy to make up for it.

"Pansy, come here," he gestured to his lap, putting the newspaper away. Hermione, wanting any source of comfort, stumbled out of her seat and scrambled into his lap, ignoring the fact that his bare chest was pressed against her back, getting clumps of foam from the soap suds that were still on him. He felt her settle into him and opened his arms to rest around her, breathing in the scent of her wet hair that fell across her back. He closed his eyes and smiled to himself, feeling like the luckiest man alive. He was married to the woman he loved since his early childhood, and right now, he had her settled in his arms. He wanted to stay like this forever.

"And besides, look at it this way," he said, trying to go along with what he thought was her cleverly schemed ploy. "Now there's one part of Potter's happy little group gone, and two more to go," he said happily, hoping that it would cheer her up. Unfortunately for him, it did no such thing.

Hermione stood up abruptly and summoned her wand. Her face fell further as she saw Pansy's wand zooming towards her. Poor Malfoy looked bewildered as his wife's face flashed with the sudden anger that was directed at him. Muttering a few words, she sent a ball of light hurtling towards Malfoy, smiling bitterly as she heard with satisfaction his yelp of pain as he crouched down, groaning in agony as boils erupted across his skin that was covered by his towel.

"Baby, I don't understand-" he was interrupted by another flash as she sent a stinging hex his way. Letting out another yelp, he scrambled to get away from his crazy wife and locked himself in the bathroom, dropping his towel half way there. She would have almost giggled if she hadn't just found out about her death as she sent an engorgement charm on his now exposed backside.

Hearing the lock click into place from the bathroom, Hermione sank down to her knees and began to cry.


	3. Chapter Two

Draco frowned as he laid his back against the bathroom door. He wondered what he might have done that had bothered his wife so deeply. He thought he could hear Pansy crying outside, but that wasn't possible. Pansy never cried; she hadn't even shed a tear at her own father's funeral. Something was definitely wrong. Perhaps a shopping trip would cheer her up, thought Draco to himself as he got up to take his shower.

He stood under the steady beat of water that rained down on him, running a hand through his white-blonde hair. Letting the matter of his wife slip his mind, he began focusing on his company. As his mind wandered through stock figures and meetings, he reached for the soap. His eyes rested on the wedding band that he wore on his finger and half-smiled, his memory taking him back to a few weeks.

Meanwhile, Hermione was close to hyperventilating outside. She couldn't believe it; she had died. It was not fair, she was so young. She was only twenty two. She hadn't even had a chance to live yet. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She needed to come up with a plan and figure everything out.

First of all, she could not let Malfoy know that she was Hermione. She had to put up a façade, trying to keep in time with Pansy's character. She barely knew her, but she knew enough about the snobby, stuck-up pureblood from her days in Hogwarts to pretend to be her. Second, she had to tell Harry and Ron that she was still alive, or partly. She closed her eyes again, remembering Ron. He must be devastated now with him thinking that she was dead. After all, they were set to be married in two weeks.

She shook her head, trying to get him out of her head. She needed to concentrate now; she'd have time to mourn later. She knew that she couldn't tell anyone else who she really was. They would probably admit her in the insane ward in St. Mungo's, along with the raving Lockhart. She shuddered, remembering her second year in Hogwarts.

Her ears pricked up slightly as she heard the water from the shower inside the bathroom turn off. Scrambling quickly, she brushed any remains of tears from her face and summoned her wand. With a wave, she transformed her thick bathrobe into simple muggle jeans and a plain red t-shirt. Going over to the mirror, she examined herself.

Instead of her wild, curly chocolate mane that she always had, she had thick, pin-straight raven black hair that fell a few inches above her waist. Her normally slightly tanned skin was now pale, looking almost translucent. She felt slightly taller, and much, much thinner than her real body. Her dark brown eyes were replaced with clear blue orbs, outlined with thick, dark lashes. She lifted a well-manicured hand to her face and prodded it, expecting her face to feel different. She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow up and down again, almost smiling. She couldn't do that before when she was in her original body.

She took a step back and looked herself over, frowning. She doubted Pansy would ever be caught in such simple clothing, judging by the state of her nightgown, let alone muggle clothing. Sighing, she waved Pansy's- er, her wand once more, watching the red shirt she wore transform into silky witch robes, the color red morphing into a deep shade of forest green. She was not very sure what color Pansy usually wore, so she decided to play it safe by wearing the Slytherin house colors. Satisfied with her appearance, she turned around from the mirror just in time to see Draco emerge, fully dressed, from the bathroom, rubbing his head with a towel. She plastered a smile on her face, trying to make it look as Pansy-like as possible.

Draco looked surprised that his wife looked so composed already. He was half-expecting a shoe being thrown at him as soon as he came out. He hid his surprise and walked over to her, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek and offering his arm for her to take. Hermione, fully surprised, had to hide her cringe as she slipped her arm through her arch-nemesis from her school days arm. He led her out of the bedroom and through a series of passages, finally reaching a large marble staircase. Hermione almost gulped, wondering how she was going to find her way back to-she almost cringed- _their_ room.

Malfoy broke through her thoughts, interrupting the silence. "Poppy, bring us our breakfast now," he demanded shortly. Hermione looked up in surprise to see a rather small house elf bowing so low to the ground that its long, pointed nose brushed the ground. "Yes, Master. Right away," he said, straightening up and adjusting the filthy pillowcase he wore as a tunic. Hermione was about to tell Malfoy off for speaking in such a rude manner to the house elf when she was interrupted by the sound of snapping fingers, followed by a loud crack of apparation. Realizing that she had to keep acting like Pansy, she silently thanked Merlin that she was interrupted before she started spouting out rules of S.P.E.W. to the man beside her.

Continuing to lead the way, Malfoy led her to a room with a large dining table. He walked over to the head of the table, pulling out a chair beside it, gesturing for Hermione to take a seat. Surprised at his rather chivalrous behavior, she sat in the seat that he held out for her, allowing him to push her chair in, then proceeding to sit in his own chair.

"_Accio Daily Prophet_," said Malfoy, pointing his wand in the direction of his room. Hermione had to duck as the rolled up newspaper came zooming to Malfoy, almost whacking her in the back of her head, and settling neatly in front of him. He drew his eyebrows together as he continued reading the newspaper, glancing up every now and then to smile at his wife. Hermione had to force a smile each time in response, trying to get used to Malfoy's uncharacteristic behavior while trying to avoid her smiling picture on the front page of the Prophet.

A loud crack was heard, followed by Poppy, struggling to carry a rather large tray that was cluttered with waffles, a jug of syrup and a bowl of butter. He set it down gently on the table with his rather trembly hands and took a step back, waiting for his Master's approval. Malfoy looked up from the newspaper and glanced at the food, then back at Poppy.

"You forgot the pumpkin juice," he snapped at the elf. Hermione watched with sympathy as Poppy's eyes widened in fear as he gulped and nodded.

"Poppy is sorry, Master. Poppy is going to bring pumpkin juice now, Master Malfoy," he squeaked, disappearing. Hermione had to restrain herself once more to not reprimand Malfoy for the way he spoke to Poppy, staring at her plate as she cut into her waffles mechanically and popped it into her mouth. Poppy appeared back with another loud crack, holding a another tray that carried a jug full of the orange liquid and two glasses and set it beside the tray of waffles.

"Good," said Malfoy in between bites of waffle. "Now go iron your hands or something so you won't forget next time," he said, waving his hand to dismiss him. Hermione stared at him, shocked at his cruel order to the elf that had no other option but to oblige to his master's command.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at his wife's expression. Why did she look so horrified? Perhaps he had been too harsh Poppy, he thought to himself. Ironing his hands would be far too much of a painful lesson…

"Poppy," Malfoy called again. Poppy appeared with yet another crack, holding a steaming iron in one hand.

"Yes, Master?"

"Don't iron your hands. I think I was far too harsh on you," said Malfoy with a rather arrogant air. He looked at Pansy for approval, which he had received with a small smile. He turned his head back to the elf again and continued. "Instead, I want you to spend the entire day pinching yourself. You are dismissed," he finished, shooing him away.

"Oh, thank you, Master," said Poppy graciously, quickly disappearing with a small pop before his master had changed his mind. Malfoy looked back at Hermione with a smile, proud of himself. She smiled weakly back, trying not to roll her eyes at him. She wanted to let out a groan of frustration. She had to find a way out of this mess. She had to find Harry and Ron and let them know that she was alive.

"So ," Malfoy cut into her panicked thoughts. "Mother is coming over for lunch today. I believe she wants to make arrangements for our honeymoon, since we couldn't go immediately after the wedding" said Malfoy casually, trying to hide the excited gleam in his eye. Hermione gulped, nodding at her husband.

She had to contact Harry and Ron. As soon as possible.


	4. Chapter Three

**A/N: Hey guys. Just a quick note here before you go on to read this chapter. Contrary to what some of you may believe, this is NOT a rip-off from another person's story, this is my own work and idea, and to say otherwise is kind of insulting.. Other than that, thanks for the reviews guys! :) **

"Malf- er, Draco," Hermione called out in the middle of the hallway. "I'm off to Diagon Alley. I expect I'll be back home a little late."

That being said, she picked up the hem of her elegant witch robes and walked over to the fireplace. She glanced up at the mantelpiece to grab a handful of Floo Powder from the small pouch and was about to step into the fireplace when a rather low, squeaky voice stopped her.

"How are you feeling today, Madam Pansy?"

Hermione looked around to see where the voice was coming from, still holding the Floo Powder in her hand. Frowning as she saw no one around her, she took a step into the fireplace.

"Well, really!" the voice scoffed, seeming to be offended. Hermione looked up in surprise. Who was speaking to her?

"Who's there?" she asked wearily, drawing her wand.

"Up here," said the voice, sounding slightly exasperated. She looked up above the mantelpiece and saw a large painting of an old, wrinkly man. He pushed his spectacles up his nose as he adjusted himself in the plush, red chair that he was posing on for the painting. Hermione sighed, placing the handful of Floo Power back inside the pouch. This was obviously going to take a while.

"Er, hello," said Hermione, taking a few steps back so that she could see the painting properly. The man in the painting stroked his long, wispy white beard, a similar tuft of hair rested on the sides of his head above his ears, running thin as they travelled to the top of his head. The rest was covered by a rather large, pointy wizard hat, decorated with golden stars that seemed to shoot across through the blue fabric. He was wearing a matching set of wizard robes, and held an old, withered looking staff. The wood from the staff seemed to twirl around a glowing blue sphere that rested on the tip. Magic, in its purest, natural form. Hermione gasped, realizing who the man in the painting was.

"Y-you're Merlin!" she exclaimed, unable to hide her astonishment and excitement. The glowing ball seemed to grow brighter as the old man smiled, amused by her reaction.

"Why, yes. That would be me," said Merlin, sounding slightly proud as he turned his nose up in the air. Hermione stared at him in awe, not being able to believe that she was looking at an original painting of Merlin himself.

"I-I'd love to chat," Hermione stammered, trying to collect herself. "But I really do have to get going."

Merlin's haughty expression softened. "Yes, dear. But do hurry back, for I get terribly lonesome. All the other Malfoy paintings are rather rude, and not at all pleasant to visit."

Hermione nodded, then took her handful of Floo Powder and stepped into the fireplace once more.

"The Burrow," her clear, unfamiliar voice rang through the hall, throwing the powder down forcefully as emerald green flames enveloped her, disappearing from Malfoy Manor.

In a blink of an eye, Hermione whirled on the spot and appeared inside of the messy kitchen of the Burrow. She was so glad to be in such a familiar place, yet the usual cheerful atmosphere was dampened. There was no cheerful chatter flowing down from above, nor Molly's voice scolding the brushes that were cleaning the pots or dishes in the sink suddenly being heard through all the noise.

In fact, the Burrow was quiet.

Hermione straightened up from the fireplace and dusted her robes. She walked slowly through the kitchen, silently stepping through the clutter of pots and pans that littered the floor. She had to find Ron and Harry. Surely they should be in their room?

She made her way up the stairs and kept walking through the hallways until she found the door that was plastered with posters of Chudley Canons. Almost smiling at the orange Quidditch poster, she turned the knob and opened the door. What she saw inside was something she thought that she would never see in a million years.

A form was huddled in the corner of the room, hidden under blankets and sheets, emitting rapid, ragged gasping sounds in between shaky sobs. Taking a step closer into the room, her foot caught on a loose floorboard, making a high squeaky noise. A flash of red was seen as the covers were thrown off the form and suddenly sat up.

Ron's face was clearly streaked with tears, his freckles standing out against his unnatural shade of pale skin. His bloodshot eyes leaked a few more tears out as he brought up his hands to wipe them away. When his vision cleared, his forlorn expression hardened, and he stood up quickly, drawing his wand out.

"What the hell are you doing here, Parkinson?" he said coldly, pointing his wand at her chest, straight at her heart. Hermione wanted to cry as well. He saw Pansy, not the person who she was inside.

"Ron," she said, wincing at how high her voice sounded. "It's me, Hermione."

Ron looked flabbergasted for a second, and then yelled out the first spell that jumped into his mind.

"_Reducto!"_

Hermione's eyes shot open with surprise as she flew backwards, slamming into the wall behind her. Stars burst in front of her and danced in front of her eyes as she hit her head against the thick wood.

"How dare you?" he snarled, advancing on her. "How dare you break into my own home and mock me? How dare you-" He cut off, unable to continue.

"Ron, it's me," she repeated. "I swear."

Ron's eyes narrowed at her. "Prove it," he spat at her. Hermione took a deep breath before beginning.

"Your name is Ronald Bilius Weasly. Your birthday is on the first of March. Your roommates in Hogwarts were Harry, Seamus and Dean. We met in our first year on the train in Hogwarts Express, when I was looking for Neville's toad. You and Harry saved me from the troll in Halloween, and we managed to get past Fluffy, Hagrid's three-headed dog, and Harry fought Voldemort for the Sorcerer's Stone. Second year I was Petrified by the basilisk, and you and Harry managed to wipe out Gilderoy Lockhart's memory, sending him to St. Mungo's. You kissed me in our seventh year right before the big battle against Voldemort," she spouted, running out of breath. "Do you really want me to keep going, Ron?"

"How did Hermione Granger die?" he asked, still unsatisfied. His wands spat out sparks as he tried to hold in his anger, trying to hold himself back before he lashed out at the woman standing before him who brought back too many memories that were too painful to recall.

"Dennis Creevy," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I left the banquet early to feed Crookshanks, and was followed by him. You and Harry felt my call for help using the D.A. coins, and found me. Harry hexed Dennis, and you ran towards me. You had me in your arms right before he shot me again, using a muggle gun."

Ron looked at the ground, then looked at her once more, except this time he did not look malicious or angry. He took a few steps towards her until he was a couple of centimeters away from her face, then bent down and helped her up.

"Hermione?" he said, putting his hands on either side of her face, rubbing his thumb in circles around her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, nodding yes.

"Hermione," he repeated softly, as if confirming who she was before circling his arms around her, squeezing her body against his tightly, feeling her lean into him as she wrapped her arms around him too.

Suddenly, she pulled away. Holding him at an arm's length away, she pulled a hand from out of his grasp and struck him as hard as she could.

"Ronald Weasly, I'll have you know that if you ever attack me again I will hex your sorry behind into the next century," she said threatened, looking at him sternly before hugging him again. Ron, too happy to care about anything else right now, pulled her back again and kissed her.

"I thought you were dead," he said afterwards, sitting her down next to him on his bed. He held her hand tightly in his, their fingers entwined. He thought he had lost her forever; it was going to be hard to let go of her now.

"I am, partially at least," she said. "I don't know what's going on exactly, or for how long am I going to be stuck inside Pansy's body…" she trailed off sadly.

"But… what happens if you do ever get out of her body?" asked Ron. "Where will you go then?"

"I wish I knew."

They looked at each other sadly for a moment before Ron leaned in to kiss her again. Her eyes fluttered shut as he gently pressed his lips against hers, his hand travelling to her face to caress her cheek. She responded almost instantly, reaching her arms around his neck, trying to pull herself closer. He could feel his heart thunder beneath his chest as he slid his hands around her waist, pulling her onto his lap. He slightly frowned. She felt rather unfamiliar; smaller. She wasn't as soft as she used to be.

He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind as she brought her hands up from his neck and clutched at his hair. He was about to move his hand up her body when his hand hit her hair. He was used to her frazzled, curly mane. This was the complete opposite. Silky, straight hair that fell to a much, much longer length than the one he was used to. He pulled his face away from hers for a moment and almost felt… repulsed. The face that he was kissing belonged to a girl who he knew to encourage Malfoy to taunt him in his school days; the face of a girl whom he despised to his very core. He was about to pull away from her completely when she pulled him back to her, kissing fiercely once more in a way that was unmistakably Hermione-like. He almost melted, feeling her every curve pressed against his body.

Ron let go of himself, allowing his hands to roam downwards. Fumbling with her shirt, he was about to dip his hand under when she put her hand over his, stopping him. He pulled away from her once more, looking at her questioningly.

"Not now," said Hermione quietly. "Not like this. We agreed we'd wait till we were married."

Nodding, Ron slowly untangled himself from her and stood up, still holding her hand.

"Where are you going?" she asked him, not wanting to get up.

"We," he corrected. "We are going to go tell Harry about you," he said with a smile. With a rather loud pop, he and Hermione turned on the spot and disappeared into thin air.


	5. Chapter Four

**A/N: sorry for the holdup guys, I was kinda suffering through writers block, but its all good now. A special shout out to all of you guys, and especially to Ranibow2Malfoy, for sticking with me so far and leaving me constant good reviews. You're awesome!**

"I want every Auror in the vicinity to drop whatever activity that they are doing and catch Creevy," snapped Harry at his assistant. The poor feeble looking wizard nodded shakily, scribbling down notes on a roll of parchment that was hovering in front of his nose in midair. Hermione shook her head slightly as she and Ron approached his office. Harry sounded so worked up.

With a slight knock on the open door, Ron walked in, Hermione trailing after him. She tried to keep a neutral expression on her face as she saw a look of something that was close to pure hatred flicker through Harry's otherwise guarded expression.

"Ron, what is she doing here?" he asked, looking at Hermione suspiciously. "Does she have anything to do with Hermione's attack?"

"Harry, mate, we have something to tell you," Ron replied, stepping in front of his desk. "Walter, can you please step outside? I need to have a word with Harry."

The wizard standing by Harry's side looked up from his parchment, looking terrified at being addressed by yet another famous wizard. Bowing as low as he could go, he muttered his apologies and stumbled his way out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He had so much to do, what with arranging Hermione's funeral, gathering enough information in order to catch Dennis and notifying Hermione's parents of their only daughter's death. All in all, it was a very long day.

"Mate, you are not going to believe this," said Ron, pushing Hermione gently in front of Harry's desk. "Let her explain."

"Parkinson? Ron, what in Merlin's beard does Pansy Parkinson have to do with any of this? Really, out of all the wizards and witches in the world, this is your most random choice yet," said Harry, sounding slightly irritated.

"Harry," said Hermione, speaking quickly before Harry got into a rant and end up offending Ron accidentally. "I'm not Pansy. It's me, Hermione."

Harry looked at her with the most absurd expression on her face. Was this witch crazy? Instead of replying, he calmly transfigured a paperclip lying on his desk into a scrap of parchment and began scribbling rapidly on it.

"What are you doing?" asked Ron, confused at what he was doing. He hadn't even acknowledged what Hermione had said.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" asked Harry, looking up from his parchment, folding it carefully into an envelope. "I'm writing a letter to admit Parkinson into St. Mungo's immediately to put under observation in the mental ward," he said, saying it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He held out his arm for his owl, Muffin (he had to stop letting Ginny name his animals), to come and collect the letter. Really, he felt his masculinity decrease each time he called for his owl in front of his coworkers. He frowned as he fumbled around his desk for some string to tie the message around the owl's foot.

"What?" said Ron, flabbergasted. "Harry, just listen to-"

"Ron, remember the incident last week when we had that other man came in, claiming to be "the wonderful Wizard of Oz"?" asked Harry, cutting him off. Ron stared at him, starting to grow annoyed by his friend's inability to listen to him.

"This is different," Ron insisted. "That man was obviously insane. It's not like she's going to go up to the Minister and profess her love to him by running through the Department of Mysteries stark naked, hollering it out to everyone she'd pass by," he said, trying to remain calm. "And seeing that she's a woman rather than a bald, shriveled up old man, I doubt many would protest if she did," he added, turning to Hermione to grin at her rather cheekily, after which he promptly received a hard smack over the back of his head.

"You see?" said Ron, wincing as he rubbed his head. "Only Hermione would hit me like that." He straightened his hair and collar, smoothing his robes down, trying to look dignified. "Speaking of which, stop hitting me, woman," he hissed at her. "You're strong and it hurts," he added, the tips of his ears growing red.

"You deserved it," she replied, glaring at him hardly. "Honestly, Ron, it looks like you wizards have no respect for women at all!" Ron pulled at his hair, sighing. "Here we go, next thing she's going to be spouting out nonsense about spew again," he muttered.

"It's not _spew_. It's S.P.E.W.! How could you forget? I made you the official recruiter back in fifth year!"

Harry stared at the two of them arguing, his jaw slack. This arguing seemed awfully familiar…

"Hermione?" he asked uncertainly. He looked in surprise as the witch in front of him turned her head and flashed her deep blue eyes at him, blinking. Pulling back a lock of straight black hair, she focused on him and smiled with relief. Finally, he seemed to begin to believe them. Turning her back to Harry once more, she faced his door and started to cast spells, pointing her wand left and right.

"Er… Pan- I mean, Hermione?" asked Harry. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Security wards. For an Auror, your office really is under-protected," she chastised him, waving her wand around.

Once Hermione was certain that there was no possible way of being overheard, she turned to face Harry and began to explain to him what she told Ron. She almost rolled her eyes when Harry told her to prove that she was in fact, Hermione Granger.

"Harry, really? Do you really want me to get into our whole history together from the second I met you?" she asked him, exasperated. She was getting tired of having to repeat the same routine of proving herself.

"Trust me, I checked to make sure that it was Hermione when she came to the Burrow," Ron reassured him, resisting the urge to hex his best friend for his stubbornness. Finally satisfied, Harry got out of his seat and ran over to hug Hermione. She pulled her arms around him too, slightly shocked at how fast his demeanor had changed. She had to force herself to hold back tears as Harry exclaimed over and over again about how frightened he was that he might have lost her.

"We have to tell everyone," he announced after letting her go. "We have to let everyone know that Hermione isn't… well, dead," he said cheerfully, pulling out a roll of parchment that was lying on his desk and beginning to scribble again with his quill.

"No."

Ron and Harry turned around to face the witch that stood before them in confusion.

"No," she repeated, pulling the parchment out of his hands and Vanishing it with her wand. "No one can know," she said. "We have to keep this to ourselves."

"Pardon my language, but why the bloody hell not?" asked Harry. Hermione looked at him, looking rather narked. "I mean, officially, you're Pansy _Malfoy,_" he continued, ignoring her glare. "You're married to _Draco Malfoy_. Do you really want to be stuck as his wife for the rest of your life?"

"Wait…" trailed off Ron. "Y-you're married to Malfoy?" he asked her, his face shock-stricken. Hermione shuddered. "Don't even get me started on that," she said, looking disgusted. "I can't even begin to tell you how weird it is seeing Malfoy look like a lovesick twelve year old."

"You're completely missing the point," said Ron, throwing his hand into his pocket and roughly retrieving a ring that was carefully wrapped in a handkerchief. Hermione's eyes widened as she recognized her engagement ring. She gasped, bringing a hand to her chest.

"Ron," she said, walking over to him and slipping her hand into his. "I can't believe you found it! I thought Dennis had thrown it away." Ron looked at her, pain flickering through his eyes.

"You're supposed to be _my_ wife," he said quietly. "Wearing the ring that _I _gave you, not one that that prick Malfoy did," he said, eyeing the rather lavishly jeweled wedding band that glinted on her left hand.

"And I will be," Hermione promised, placing both of her hands on his face. "I don't know how I'll get myself out of this mess, but I will."

Ron looked back at her, putting his hands over hers and bringing them down. He stepped closer to her and rested his forehead against hers, gazing deep into her unfamiliar eyes, to leaning in to kiss her. They were suddenly interrupted by Harry clearing his throat in the background.

"And what about everyone else? Everyone thinks that you're dead. What about the people who are mourning you? Your parents?" he asked, his voice beginning to rise. "I had to administer a Dreamless Sleep potion to your mother today after having to break the news to her that her only daughter and child was murdered last night," he said. Hermione's face fell after hearing that. She could not begin to imagine what her mother must be feeling right now.

"Harry, you think I don't know all of that?" she said, her blue eyes flashing once more. "It's just that we don't know exactly what we're dealing with. Merlin knows how I didn't die when Dennis shot me, and I ended up in Pansy's body instead, married to Malfoy out of all people. I don't like this anymore than you do, Harry, but there is nothing we can do or say about this until we find out more," she said sensibly. "I have it much worse than either of you. Yes, Ron, I know you don't like that I'm married to Malfoy right now, and quite frankly, neither am I; but how do you think _I_ feel about it? All I've ever been to him my entire life is a lowly Mudblood," she said, her voice thickening as she spoke. She tried to continue, but could not bring herself to say any more lest she broke out into tears.

"Hermione's right," said Harry after a long pause. Ron looked as if he was about to protest when Harry cut him off. "No, Ron. She really is. We don't know what we're dealing with here. This could be dark magic at work for all we know. By letting people know that she isn't dead, we'd be attracting unwanted attention, and Merlin knows what will come of that, or what will happen afterwards."

"And what about Malfoy?" asked Ron dejectedly. "What do we do about Hermione's situation with him?" He looked down at the floor, unable to control himself as jealousy took over. "I mean, we can't exactly just leave her married to that oaf."

Harry thought for a moment, looking at Hermione for any ideas. Seeing that Harry was at a loss for words, she spoke up.

"Ron, I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I think we have to try and be as discreet as possible." Ron opened his mouth and then closed it again, not knowing what to say. Hermione took that as her cue to continue speaking. "We can't let anyone have the slightest hint that something is wrong. I have to continue to carry the façade of Pansy."

"And let's not forget," interjected Harry. "While we know where Hermione is right now, where in Merlin's name is Pansy?"


	6. Chapter Five

She sighed as she entered through the large doors of Malfoy Manor. It was a long day, and all she wanted to do was to go crawl into her bed and sleep. Her eyes closed dreamily as she imagined soft, fluffy white pillows and a thick warm blanket wrapped around her.

As luck would have it, she would do no such thing any time soon.

"Where were you?" A voice greeted her as she passed the staircase, trying to figure out which way was to her room. Her eyes widened as she turned around quickly, her long hair whipping behind her. She saw Malfoy standing behind her, spitting out the mouthful of hair that had been whipped into his face. He made a slight hacking noise, trying to get rid of any strands of her hair that were still stuck in his throat. She stifled back a giggle as he tried to look dignified, regaining his previous manner.

"You missed lunch with Mother today," he said, looking slightly angry. "I had to make all our honeymoon arrangements by myself." Hermione looked slightly taken aback. She had completely forgotten, what with spending the entire day with Harry and Ron, trying to devise a plan and keeping her real identity a secret. She gaped at him, not knowing what to say.

"Er- I, um," she stuttered, trying to find words to say. In the end, she settled for an apology. In what she thought to be the most Pansy-like manner, she straightened her shoulders and held her chin up. "My apologies," she said in a polite manner. "I ran into some old friends down at the new, er, coffee house," she said quickly, trying to fabricate what her day had been like. She stopped when she saw Malfoy's lost expression.

"Pansy?" he said. "What is coffee?"

"Oh," said Hermione, realizing that as he probably never ventured out into the muggle world, he had probably never even heard of the word coffee. Her eyes widened once more as she realized her mistake. The real Pansy had probably never been to the muggle world either, therefore she too would have no idea what coffee was.

"Did I say coffee? I meant that new… um…" Hermione trailed off, thinking hard. Merlin, she was terrible at this. Malfoy shook his head, reaching for her hand.

"It doesn't matter, dear," he said, cutting her off. "You probably got carried away drinking with your friends again," sighed Draco, leading her up the stairs. She frowned slightly, drawing her eyebrows together. He hadn't sounded like he believed her at all. "You're obviously tired," he continued. " Let's go to bed."

Hermione let out a mental sigh of relief. She wouldn't have to feign anything to figure out how to get into her- their- room, nor would she have to continue explaining why she missed lunch with him. She tried to memorize the turns and hallways that they passed by on the way to their room, making a mental map inside of her head.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity of turning through about twenty hallways, he finally stopped at a crisp white door. Smiling at her, he twisted the silver handle and opened the door, leading her into the room.

"I'm going to go take a bath," said Malfoy, letting go of her hand with a soft kiss on her knuckles. He accio-ed a towel and opened another door in the corner of the room that lead to the bathroom. "Join me," he said with a wink, leaving the door open. She rolled her eyes at him when she was sure he was inside. Did he really just wink at her?

"I think I'm fine," Hermione called as she sat on the fluffy bed. Oh Merlin, how could a bed be so soft? She was about to lie down when she felt a sharp tug. Suddenly, instead of the dim light inside of the bedroom, she was surrounded by a soft yellow glow. She gasped as she took in her surroundings. She was surrounded by dozens of candles everywhere, and the floor was littered with rose petals. She wanted to scoff at the cliché-ness of the scene, but couldn't bring herself to. It was such a sweet gesture, and a rather unexpected one on Malfoy's part.

"I drew the bath exactly the way you liked it," said Malfoy, gesturing to a huge bathtub built into the floor in the middle of the bathroom. She was surprised at how large it was. She had no idea that they could even _be _that size; she had mistaken it to be some sort of small pool. It was filled to the brim with pink, foamy bubbles, and a soft scent of freshly mowed grass and new parchment drifted towards her. Her otherwise dreamy eyes widened as she recognized Fred and George's joke shop's latest line of products, Amortentia Bubbles. As if to confirm it, she saw the empty bottle lying by the sink. Great. How was she supposed to control herself in this situation? She could feel the overpowering control of the love potion induced bubble juice capture her, and she drew herself towards Draco, reaching around to drape her arms around his neck. She could feel a silly grin slide itself across her face, seeing an identical one draw itself on Draco's.

Ignoring the fact that she was fully clothed in her witch robes, she allowed herself to be taken into his arms and being gently submerged into the tub. She gasped as the warm water hit her, making her robes billow about around her, her sense of timidity returning as she tried to keep the robes down as it revealed her skin under. A pair of strong hands put themselves over hers and pulled upwards, making her stand up. She tried not to shiver as the cold air struck her skin, her robes clinging to her body. Draco snaked his hands around her body and pulled off her robes slowly, pressing his lips to hers each time she tried to protest, each was weaker than the previous. Darn those Weasley twins and their love products.

Letting herself succumb to the effects of Amortentia, she let Draco make her sit back down inside the tub, settling in between his lap. His fingers trailed across her bare back as he pulled off her undergarments and threw them to the side. She sighed, leaning her back into his chest, allowing his hands to circle around her waist and pull her closer to him. She draped an arm behind her and circled it around the back of his neck, feeling him pepper tiny kisses along her jaw line, trailing down to her neck.

She was abruptly awoken from her Amortentia-induced trance when she felt something hard press against her back. Her face reddening, she snapped her head around and narrowly missed his lips that were so intent on connecting with hers.

"I think I'm clean enough now," she said quickly and stood up, placing a foot outside of the tub. She tried to ignore Draco's hungry stare as she reached for the towel hanging on the towel rack to cover her body up. She frowned when it wouldn't budge from its place.

"Er, Pansy dear, that's my towel," said Draco, sounding slightly distracted as he stood up from the tub as well. She averted her eyes from his… situation, and focused her eyes on his face instead.

"So? I don't see your name on it," she said sarcastically, trying to tug it off the rack.

"Actually," said Draco, clearing his throat. Hermione turned the towel around and saw the name Draco Malfoy embroidered carefully in elegant, cursive green thread. She looked up at the ceiling, mouthing the words "Why me?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said that I am rather possessive," said Draco with a small chuckle. "And besides, we aren't finished with our bath."

"I am," she retorted, and stormed out with her head held high, trying to keep as much dignity as she could despite the fact that the only thing that was on her skin was the soapy water that she was lying in a couple of minutes ago. Using her wand, she magicked the soap suds off of her and opened an elegant looking chest by the bed that she assumed was hers. She opened the heavy lid and looked inside.

And quickly closed it.

"Oh Merlin's smelly old left sock," she swore, shaking her head quickly, trying to get rid of whatever she just saw. She could not believe that he owned his very own private collection of... exotic magazines, you could say. Who would've known? It looked like Malfoy did indeed like _some_ muggle material.

She was brought out of her thoughts abruptly by a sudden yelp behind her. Turning around, she saw Draco run over to her, dropping his towel on the way from the bathroom. "Oh goodness," she muttered to herself, averting her eyes from his area once more. Did he really have no shame? He seemed to have no trouble walking around stark naked. Men... Idiots, the whole lot of them.

"Pansy!" he yelled, slamming the lid of the trunk shut and sitting on top of it. "How many times have I told you to never look into this chest? It's private!" he exclaimed, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "Did you see anything?" he asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at her.

"No, Ma-Draco, dear. Of course not."

Stifling a giggle, she muttered her apologies and went over to the other chest that stood by the other side of the bed. Opening it, she let out a quick sigh of relief as she saw that it was all of Pansy's clothing. She pulled out the most modest looking pair of pyjamas and slipped into it, transfiguring the silky material into soft cotton and lengthening the sides so that it wouldn't be so revealing. Sighing in satisfaction, she smoothed herself down and turned to face the bed.

She had almost forgotten how hard this part was going to be. It was going to be quite difficult to willingly slip into bed with him. Gulping quietly, she lifted the soft comforter and slipped underneath, curling her body to face the wall.

Just as she was about to drift off to sleep, she felt the other side of the bed behind her dip under the weight of another body getting on. She cringed into the darkness as she felt his hand slip around her, pulling her into his body. She feigned sleep, hoping that that would be the most that he would do.

Sadly, she was wrong.

He began tracing small patterns lightly onto her shoulder, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Although she did not like Draco in the slightest, her body was reacting in a rather unusual way to his advances, despite the fact that she was revolted by him. Perhaps it was because she was really in Pansy's body instead of her own. Yes, that must be it.

She tried to ignore him, closing her eyes and continuing to feign sleep. Unfortunately, it did nothing to discourage his advances. Her eyes shot wide open as his hand began to creep lower and lower onto her body. She was getting rather uncomfortable. Perhaps it was time to return the favour.

"So," she said, clearing her throat as she spoke.

"Hmm?"

"What's playboy?" she asked innocently, unable to hide her grin. She thanked Merlin that it was dark and he could not see her face. Her grin grew even wider when his hand froze in its path. She could almost feel his face grow hot as his cheeks reddened once more.

"Er... Ah, what are you talking about?" he asked uncertainly.

"You tell me," replied Hermione cheekily. "After all, the title of your magazine _did_ say Playboy. You have to tell me all about it," she said, pretending to gush.

"Maybe later," said Draco quickly. "I'm kind of tired now," he said in between a few fake yawns. Hermione stifled yet another giggle.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said rather happily. "Goodnight Draco."

She was answered by a loud grunt, followed by the sound of the squeak of the springs in bed as he shifted to face the other side of the room. She sighed triumphantly and closed her eyes, once again trying to fall asleep.

"So you _did_ see something inside my-"

"Draco, go to sleep."

"Yes, dear."


	7. Chapter Six

The sun's rays filtered through the closed drapes, hitting her eyelids directly. She stirred and shifted her position in bed, rolling over onto her stomach. Her eyes shot open when her hand hit something hard. Lifting her head up from the pillow, she looked to her side and saw Malfoy lying beside her, an arm thrown over his forehead while the other was draped across his chest. She took a moment to take the rather bizarre sight in.

His mouth was slightly open, soft snores emitting from his nose. His usually neat hair was tousled all over the pillow. With the sun's rays pouring over it, it shone like spun golden thread. She stretched herself out before getting out of bed, shivering as her bare feet hit the cold marble floor. Not noticing the sheets entangling with her feet, she made her way to the bathroom, completely oblivious to the fact that she was dragging the entire bed sheet along with her. When she finally reached the door, she heard a loud thump.

Turning around, she saw that she had managed to drag Malfoy out of bed, literally. She froze as he slightly stirred, holding her breath. She let it out as he choked on a snore and coughed, rolling over, effectively wrapping himself in the sheets. She wondered how he had remained sound asleep. She contemplated leaving him lying on the floor. Deciding that she felt too lazy to do anything, she opened the bathroom door and began brushing her teeth, the sheets dragging his slumbering body in with her.

She let her mind wander as she began doing her daily morning routine in the bathroom. How on earth did she manage to land herself in this mess? None of this made any sense. She should have died the second Dennis had pulled the trigger. Something must have gone wrong.

And why Pansy's body? Was this some kind of sick, twisted version of Hell? She frowned, considering the idea. If it was, she had to give credit. Being married to a git that she hated for more than half of her life was a rather creative way to punish her sins in her previous life. She stretched again, scratching a spot on her stomach. She frowned as her fingers touched something ragged on her skin. Looking down, she saw a small circular scar on her stomach; barely noticeable. Reaching for her wand on the bathroom counter, she waved it and muttered a healing charm, letting a small smile of satisfaction soften her frown as she watched the scar heal and fade away, disappearing.

Reaching for the shower-glass door, she went back to her thoughts. How was she supposed to get herself out of this mess? How was she going to ever _begin_ to understand what had happened to her? How was she-

What in Merlin's name..? The scar was back. Perhaps her wand was malfunctioning. Oh how she wished she had _her_ wand with her. This wand felt different, wrong; yet at the same time it felt so familiar in her hand. It was probably because she was in Pansy's body, therefore the wand had recognized her. She sighed again, turning on the hot water and began taking her shower.

After finishing her shower, she pulled the shower-glass door open and stepped out, dripping water all over the floor. She made her way to the sink and looked at herself at the mirror, studying her new face. Pansy _did_ have an oddly turned up nose that was slightly squashed, giving her the appearance of a pug, a name that the Gryffindors had given her that she had carried throughout her years at Hogwarts. But she had to admit that Pansy had grown into it, and was now a very attractive woman. Though she missed her old face...

She sighed, wrapping a towel around her head to dry her hair and reached for the bathrobe that hung on the rack. Just as she was about to slip her arms through the robe, her foot had slid onto a puddle that she had left on the floor from when she had gotten out of the shower, making her slip and fall hard onto her bottom, narrowly missing the sharp corner of the handle of the shower-glass door.

"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her sore bottom as she held onto the side of the sink and pulled herself up. She was about to get out of the bathroom when her foot hit something damp lying on the floor. Looking down, she saw that it was Draco, completely drenched; still sound asleep on the sheets that she had dragged into the bathroom. He sure was a heavy sleeper. She made her way over to his head and bent down, hooking her arms beneath his and trying to prop him up. She let out a growl of frustration when he wouldn't budge. She definitely had to get into shape. Perhaps a morning routine of exercise.

Feeling slightly guilty, she levitated him back into bed, making sure the covers were back over his body. With another wave of her wand, she cast a drying spell on him. Satisfied, she put her hands on her hips and walked over to the chest next to her side of the bed and rummaged through it, looking for something to wear.

Finally, her hand had hit a silky smooth material that was unmistakably witch robes. Grinning, she reached her arm deeper inside and tried to pull it out. She frowned as she felt the material snag on something. The chest obviously had an expandable charm on it, for it was rather large inside for such a small chest. She reached in deeper, her eyes widening as her arm had been able to go inside all the way without even touching the bottom yet. How big was this chest anyway?

She pulled on the robes again, trying to free the entangled material from whatever it had caught inside. Her eyes widened as she heard a tiny ripping noise. That could not be good. Reaching even deeper still inside, she tried to find where it had snagged so that she could try and gently untangle the robes without tearing it.

"Pansy?" a sleepy voice called from behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Not now, Malf- I mean, Draco," she huffed, frustrated. Why wouldn't the robes come free? She was about to get her wand to help her when she felt a hand on her shoulder, startling her. With an almighty yelp, she tumbled over and fell into the chest, hearing the lid slam shut after her.

She fell for quite a while, screaming all the way down until she landed on a pile of neatly folded clothes that seemed to carpet the floor of the chest. She looked up, trying to see where the lid of the chest was.

"Merlin's beard!" she cursed, kicking at the ground as she realized that unless she suddenly sprouted roughly around ten feet she would not be able to even reach that cursed lid. She patted herself down, trying to find her wand.

Great. She had left her wand on the bedside table. She let out a scream of frustration and threw her hands up in the air, jumping up and down in a temper tantrum. What else could go wrong?

After a few minutes of throwing her tantrum, she had calmed down and sat on the floor, breathing heavily. There certainly had to be a way to get back out. She looked at the sides of the chest, glaring at the hundreds of shelves that contained countless amounts of folded materials and clothes. Who needed this many clothes anyway?

She looked up and saw the robes that she had been trying to reach for before she had fallen in. Drawing her eyebrows together, she muttered a string of colourful words as she pulled the wretched robes and shed her bathrobe off and pulled the robes on, not noticing a small object plunk out from underneath. Sighing, she looked up at the lid again.

"Hello?" she called out. Her echoing voice answered her, repeating her voice over and over again. She frowned again. Exactly how big was this chest anyway? She looked to her side and saw a post sign hanging a couple of feet away. Drawing nearer to it, she squinted in the dark as she tried to make out what it said.

"Shoes, left," she read slowly. She looked down at the floor and saw a row of neatly folded red clothes making a pathway for her to follow. She sighed once more, shaking her head. There really were no limits to magic. She made her way back to where she stood before and looked up again.

"Draco?" she called, leaning on the wall of shelves beside her. Once again she was answered by her echoes. Kicking at the floor once again, she paced around in frustration, trying to figure a way out. She stopped pacing when she stubbed her toe against a hard object lying on the floor. Howling in pain, she hopped up and down, clutching at her toe. "Stupid little-"

She stopped in mid-rant as suddenly a bright light shone from above, lighting up the floor beneath her. She looked down and saw that the object that she had stubbed her toe on was a small black book with Pansy's name embroidered on it in silver cursive writing. She stooped down to get it and stowed it away quickly inside one of the pockets inside of her robes as she heard Pansy's name being called out.

"Draco?" she called out again, squinting her eyes in the direction of the light. She heard a muffled yell directed towards her, but she couldn't understand what he was trying to say.

"What?" she yelled back. Once again, she was greeted by a muffled yell. Shaking her head, she looked at the shelves beside her and looked up again. She could climb her way out.

"You have got to be kidding me," she muttered to herself as she reached up to hold a shelf that was sticking out and pulling herself up, catching her foot on the shelf beneath her. This was going to be a very long climb.

When her head finally emerged from the wretched chest, she pulled her arms out and grabbed onto Draco's arms, helping him pull her out. Clambering out of the chest, she kept her hold on Draco and rested against him, her chest heaving.

This was not what she had in mind for her morning exercise.

"Are you alright?" asked Draco, brushing her hair back with his hands and cupping her face. Hermione, feeling uncomfortable at their close proximity, pulled her face out from between his palms and nodded, ignoring the slight hurt look that flashed across his face before he smoothed it out into a blank expression.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, retreating to the bed, sitting down.

"You do realize that you could've just used the elevator inside of the chest, you know, instead of climbing all the way up," said Draco, taking a seat next to her. She lifted her head and looked at him, exasperated.

"Why didn't you tell me that?" she said, feeling very irritated.

"I did," he replied. "Twice, in fact."

"Oh," she said, falling silent. So that was what he was trying to tell her...

"Let's have breakfast," suggested Draco after a moment of silence. Hermione looked up at him and nodded.

"You go ahead," she said, flashing him a quick smile. "I'll catch up."

"Are you sure?" asked Draco, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," she replied, flipping her long hair back, "I have to er, do my hair," she said quickly. He raised his eyebrow again, looking at her. "I simply can't be seen like this," she continued, hoping that she was keeping with Pansy's character.

"Alright," said Draco, getting up from his seat on the bed. "I'll see you in the breakfast room."

She forced another smile at him again, watching him until he left. As soon as the door had clicked shut, she snatched the book out from her robes and studied it.

It was a beautiful book. It had a dark suede cover, and the name Pansy Parkinson was embroidered carefully across at the bottom. The sides were framed with a soft silver thread, giving the book an appearance of a soft glow. She turned it over and opened the cover, holding her breath. Perhaps this book contained the answers to her questions.

In thin elegant writing, the date was carefully written on the top corner of the page, and a few long paragraphs were written down. So it was just as she had suspected. It was Pansy's journal.

She turned to the last entry of the book and pulled her eyebrows together into a frown as she began to read what was written down.

She gasped as her eyes scanned the last line of the entry. She slowly looked up and snapped the book shut, staring into space as her mind reeled at warp speed at what she had just read.


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/N: sorry for the holdup again, guys. And a special thanks to Ranibow2Malfoy once again for sticking by me. And for those of you who think that this is some rip off of another story, think again. This is my own creation. And if it bothers you so much, then don't read instead of reading my story and leaving insults in the reviews.**

"So Pansy, dear," said Narcissa Malfoy, dabbing her lips daintily with a satin white napkin. "Draco tells me that you haven't been very... responsive to him lately," she said, picking her fork up and cutting a piece of chicken from her plate. Hermione choked from beside Draco as she heard her mother-in-law, coughing as she tried to clear her airway from the mouthful of salad that she had been trying to chew on for the past few minutes. He patted her back firmly, trying to help her as she swallowed. She ignored his sympathetic look as she felt her face redden with embarrassment and took another sip of wine to clear her throat.

"Er, what makes you say that, um," she stuttered, trying to figure out what she was supposed to address the woman in front of her as. "Er... Mother?" she guessed, wincing as she took her chances. She looked up in surprise as Narcissa dropped her fork down with a clatter on her plate. Oh crap. She must have said the wrong thing.

"Um," she said, not knowing what to say as she watched the woman in front of her stare at her in shock before bursting into tears. She glanced at Draco sitting beside her and gave him a confused look before turning back to Narcissa, who was trying to fan herself with her hands.

"Mother? Are you alright?" asked Draco, alarmed.

"Oh, I'm sorry dear, I'm just so happy Pansy's finally called me that instead of that awful Mrs. Malfoy nonsense. You've finally accepted us as your family!" she exclaimed, bringing her hands together delightedly. "Now maybe I'll finally get my grandchildren," she said, picking her fork up and returning to her chicken. Hermione stared in horror as she watched the chaos slowly unfold in front of her as the white-blonde haired witch continued speaking, apparently wanting to discuss the variant methods of conceiving a child. "We have so much to get into now," she said, oblivious to Hermione's obvious discomfort.

"Draco, do something!" she hissed at him under the chattering of his mother. He looked at her silently, his cheeks burning crimson as he heard his mother.

"Mother," he said, cutting her off in midsentence, setting his fork down.

"Yes, Draco?" Narcissa asked, popping the last bit of her meal into her mouth and chewing.

"I think you are making Pansy a tad bit uncomfortable with all this grandchildren talk," said Draco, clearing his throat. Narcissa looked at her son for a moment, and then set her napkin down on her lap, swallowing the bite of chicken.

"Don't you want children, Draco?" she asked dangerously. Draco looked at his mother, and then at his wife sitting beside him, both women glaring angrily at him. Deciding that he could deal with his wife's wrath later, he sided with his mother.

"Yes Mother," he said quietly, looking down at his plate like a young child being scolded.

"So either you two produce a grandchild for me and an heir who can carry on the Malfoy name, or I'll take matters into my own hands and-"

"Don't continue that sentence," said Draco calmly cutting her off, not wanting to hear what his mother had had in mind for his sex life. "I promise you, Pansy and I will try our very best to produce an heir," he said soothingly, almost sighing in relief as his mother's dangerous expression softened into a smile. "In our own time," he added hastily as he was prodded roughly with a butter knife by Hermione. He almost groaned when his mother's teary expression returned.

"Oh, that's alright," she sniffed dramatically. "Take your time. I just hope I'm alive by the time my first grandchild is born..." she trailed off, putting her head in her hands, hiding her face. Hermione rolled her eyes as she saw Narcissa peeking from between her fingers, trying to, unsuccessfully she might add, discreetly watch Draco's reaction.

Draco, finally exasperated, threw his hands up in the air and let out a big sigh.

"I give up," he said, trying to restrain himself from pulling at his hair in frustration. "Mother, I will try and get you your grandchild as soon as possible," he said, resting his head on one hand that was propped up on the table, massaging his temples.

"Promise?" she brightened up, wiping away the crocodile tears that had formed in her eyes.

"Yes, I promise."

"Very good, then," she said, leaning back in her chair in a very lady-like manner. "Poppy," she called out. "I think we are ready for our dessert," she said to the elf that had apparated beside her with a loud pop.

The rest of lunch went with Draco staring at his plate, trying to avoid the glares that Hermione kept shooting him, while at the same time trying to avoid his mother and her constantly trying to interfere with his personal life. Soon, Narcissa bade her farewells and left the manor, leaving the couple sitting at the table.

"Pansy, baby, I-"

"We will discuss this later, Draco," she shushed him, sliding out of her chair and walking out of the room. She clutched the Pansy's journal tightly in her hands under her cloak, running her finger up and down its smooth spine, itching to curl up in the corner and pore into it, revealing the secrets it contained. She needed to find a place where she could read this book privately.

Turning into a hallway, she reached the painting of Merlin hanging over the fireplace. Perhaps she could ask him for directions to a library or something. Mustering all of her strength, she stood tall and walked over to the painting to face one of the most powerful wizards of all time. She felt rather intimidated by the mere thought of speaking to Merlin himself, regardless of him being inside of a painting hanging over the fireplace of Malfoy's house. Her eyes fell in disappointment as the plush red chair that Merlin had been sitting on was vacant. Perhaps he was visiting another portrait?

Sighing, she walked away and took a set of stairs down another hallway, hoping to somehow manage to accidentally stumble across the library. She stopped as she saw a large black door at the side of another hallway. Figuring she might as well take a look, she walked towards it and opened the door.

It was a beautiful room, yet somehow dark in a way. It felt very familiar... It had red tapestries reaching from the ceiling to the floor, marked with elegant swirly black designs etched into the velvety fabric. There was another grand fireplace with a white marble mantelpiece on top. She walked over to it, looking at the pictures that stood there framed in gold.

There was one that was all the way at the corner of the mantelpiece. A young girl and boy sitting together on a large white stone, both dressed in white robes, waving madly at her; stopping ever now and then to look at each other and giggle. The girl had short black hair that reached the tip of her chin, falling down onto one side of her face as she tilted her head and pouted at the camera. She leaned to hold the blonde, pale faced boy's hand, ignoring the scowl that she earned.

Hermione could not help but smile. It was a picture of Draco and Pansy when they were very young, probably around four or five years old. It must have been nice to have been close to someone for that long and then end up in marriage. She moved on to the next picture.

A young Pansy and Draco stood in front of the manor wearing Hogwarts robes; without the house crests. This must have been on their first year before they had been sorted into Slytherin. Draco's hair was slicked back, accentuating his pointed chin which he tried to jut out at the camera, his silvery grey eyes boring into her. Pansy on the other hand was batting her long eyelashes at the camera, lifting one leg up and striking a pose. Hermione laughed as Pansy lost her balance and shot an arm out to hold onto Draco's shoulder to keep her from wobbling, flashing another smile at the camera.

The next picture was a couple of years afterwards, possibly around sixth year. Pansy's hand was holding onto the crook of Draco's elbow which he was holding out to her, both dressed up in formal dress robes. Draco's white-blonde hair shone as it fell across his forehead, hanging just over his eyes. He seemed to be clearing his throat as he reached a hand up to his neck, fiddling with his bowtie. He looked rather uncomfortable. Pansy was wearing powdery blue silk robes, ending in slight frills at the hem. Her blue eyes shone in the picture, trying to maintain a poised manner as she stared into the camera trying to mimic Draco's bored look.

The last picture was of their wedding day. Draco smiled a happy grin into the camera, his arms wrapped tightly around his wife. His hands were resting on her stomach, creating a sort of cradle as Pansy leaned her head back onto his shoulder. Her crimson mouth was stretched into a sweet smile, her mirthful eyes staring into the camera as she clutched a bouquet of roses in her hands. Every now and then Pansy would look away from the camera and stretch her neck backwards to reach Draco, kissing his lips tenderly; her eyes fluttering shut as Draco would lift a hand from her waist and cup her cheek, deepening the kiss.

Hermione did not notice that her eyes were wet until she felt a tear drop onto her hand. She realized that what she felt towards the couple that were smiling at her in the picture was envy. She was supposed to have that perfect wedding day picture in a couple of week's time...

Turning away from the mantelpiece, she looked around the room. She suddenly let out a gasp as she realized why she felt that this room had felt so familiar. Walking over to where an old mahogany table stood, she closed her eyes, hearing the ghost of her own screams echoing in her ears from half a decade ago as Bellatrix Lestrange tortured her in the very spot she stood in. She shivered, recalling the cool metal of the knife pressing into her neck, leaving a thin scar that had never quite faded. She lifted a hand to her neck, only to find smooth, soft skin there instead.

Oh, right. She was in Pansy's body.

She walked around the room, examining it. It had a beautiful bookcase filled with books. She saw so many titles that intrigued her. She clenched her fingers into tight little fists, restraining herself from grabbing almost every single book in sight and reading them. She walked over to the old mahogany desk at the centre of the room and ran a finger across, thinking hard. This must be Draco's study. She looked to the windowsill and saw a perch left by the open window, presumably for his owl. Perhaps-

Her thoughts were interrupted when a splinter pricked her skin from the desk. Withdrawing her hand, she sucked on the drop of blood that began oozing out. "_Accio splinter," _she said, pointing her wand at her finger. She winced as she felt the slight pinch when the splinter popped out of her skin.

This was no library, but it would have to do for the day. She needed to continue reading that journal.

Sighing, she settled herself down in the green dragon-hide chair and pulled out the book from her robes. Drawing her wand, she conjured a lit candle and set it on the desk, moving closer to the soft glow that the flame emitted. Turning to the first page, she began to read.


	9. Chapter Eight

**A/N: once again, a special shout out to Ranibow2Malfoy, seddielover12 and RainingEmeralds and all of you guys out there whos sticking by me and sending me awesome reviews. You guys are awesome! :D**

_June 19__th__, 1998_

_Today was such a hassle. There is just so much to do before the wedding! I can't believe there are just two weeks left till I am officially Mrs. Draco Malfoy. Personally, I think I want to keep my original last name. Pansy Malfoy sounds simply awful. I prefer Pansy Parkinson much more; although I recently discovered that there is a disease with the word Parkinson in it. Apparently it's some muggle disease. How dreadful…_

_I have to go soon. I'm getting my dress adjusted. I think I need the train of my wedding dress a few feet longer. After all, it's going to be a spectacular wedding. I wouldn't want anyone to outdo me now, would I? _

_Joy, Mrs. Malfoy, or shall I say, "Mother", is calling. She's trying to get me to call her that for the past two months. Honestly, I despise my own mother, what makes her think that I'll like her any better? All I want is my Draco._

Hermione lifted her head from the book and let out a scornful laugh. It was kind of weird to read someone else's thoughts, and she had to admit, Pansy was a completely different person than she had expected. She thought she would see lists of people that she would bitch about, and then go on to talking about how many pairs of shoes that she had bought that day. And she really did love Draco…

She flipped to the last entry in the journal and re-read it again.

_July 28__th__, 1998_

_I hate this. I don't know what to do. I'm so confused… I'm married to the love of my life, what more could I want? Or at least, he used to be… I am so unhappy._

_I think that it is this child inside of me; this wretched human being that is growing inside of my body, feeding and leeching off of my energy. I had found out a week ago, but I refused to believe it until now. I just came back from St. Mungo's. I couldn't stand the Healers congratulating me after waving their horrid white wands around my stomach and making me pee on some muggle stick that changed colour._

_I had never been so humiliated, I can tell you that. I was actually asked to pee on a stick. A muggle stick, no less. And as if that was not enough, I had to sit in some strange chair and watch as a Healer prodded me with tools in an area that should only be accessible to my husband. Can you imagine? Me, Pansy Parkinson, being prodded at by some strange Healer; a man, no less, down there?_

_Needless to say, I am completely and utterly embarrassed. I have been throwing up nonstop, and I constantly have to go back and forth to pee every half an hour. It is ridiculous._

_I haven't told Draco yet. I don't think I intend to either. I have to get rid of this child. I can feel it… this child is going to be evil. This child… Merlin knows what will happen, what with the curse and all. I refuse to let this happen. I refuse to be some kind of human vessel carrying this… abomination inside of me. _

_I will get rid of this child, and I want to get out of this horrid marriage, even if it is the last thing I do. Merlin said that there is no way a witch and wizard can get out of a marriage. Apparently, they take the term "till death do us part" quite seriously…_

Hermione was jostled out of her thoughts when she heard a thump on the door outside. Scrambling out of her seat, she tucked the diary under robes and ducked down under the table, stowing herself into the corner of the table. Hearing the door of the room open with a slight click, she held her breath and pressed her back against the corner hard, huddling her knees closer to her chest.

Her eyes trained on the pair of fancy black shoes that had appeared. She recognized them as Draco's, and watched them come nearer and nearer to the table.

"Pansy?" she heard her name being called out.

She froze, pretending that she didn't hear him. Her prayers went unanswered as she saw the black shoes approach her, walking around the desk to stand directly in front of her.

"Pansy, what are you doing in my study?" asked Draco, frowning as he let out a hand to her for her to take. Glaring at the hand, she ignored it and pulled herself up, bumping her head hard under the desk.

"I was looking for my earrings," she lied calmly.

"And what would your earrings be doing in my study?" said Draco. "Honestly, Pansy. You've been acting quite odd for the past couple of days. Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, Draco," she said stiffly. She held her head high and walked out of the room, not noticing the book slip out of her robes and fall with a plunk to the floor. When she closed the door shut behind her she let out pants of relief. She didn't know how she managed to lie through her teeth so smoothly.

Feeling slightly dazed, she made her way up to her bedroom and sank into the bed, holding her head in her hands. There was so much information to process.

There was such a contrast between Pansy's moods from the beginning of the journal to the last entry. What had made her feel so bitterly towards the man that she was so certain Pansy had loved and adored? She knew for certain that Pansy had truly loved him. She had seen all the pictures; and no one can ever fake the love that she had seen in their wedding photograph.

And what curse had Pansy been talking about? She called the child that she had been carrying an abomination… Her eyes widened as her mind lingered on that thought.

Pansy was pregnant.

Hermione yanked her robes off and pulled her top up and stared at her stomach. Was she still carrying the child? She pulled out her wand and waved it over her stomach. A light blue negative sign hovered in front of her, making her frown. Had Pansy kept her word and gotten rid of the baby? She tried to recall anything else from the journal.

"_Merlin said that there is no way a witch and wizard can get out of a marriage."_

Merlin? How on earth would she be able to speak to Merlin? Unless she meant the painting? Pansy must have spoken to Merlin in the painting about trying to get out of the marriage. Perhaps she could try talking to him and find out what else had she possibly spoken to him about.

Her train of thought cut off when she felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around her waist, yanking her backwards onto the soft mattress below her.

"I thought I'd find you here," Draco murmured into her ear. Hermione let out a startled scream, her instincts kicking in as she started pulling away from him, thrashing her arms about. She stopped when she felt her elbow connect with something soft.

She turned around to see Draco rubbing his stomach, grimacing.

"If you find me so utterly unattractive to the point where you would hit me to avoid a simple embrace, then just…" Draco trailed off tiredly. "Nevermind."

"N-no, Draco, I didn't mean it," she stuttered. "You just gave me a bit of a fright me, that's all."

Hermione felt terrible. She watched the poor man shake his head and bring a hand up to massage his temples as he turned away, facing the wall behind him.

"No," said Draco. "That isn't it. You've been acting so strange for the past few days. Its been making me wonder…" he trailed off.

"What is it?" asked Hermione wearily. Was Draco onto something? Did he finally figure out that she was not who he thought she was?

"I have to ask you a question, Pansy," he said quietly. "And please, for Merlin's sake, answer truthfully."

"Yes, Draco?" she said, swallowing back a gulp nervously.

"Are you having an affair?" he asked her, his voice almost inaudible. Hermione's eyes enlarged.

"Draco, what on earth would give you that idea?" she said, almost laughing with relief as she realized that he suspected nothing about her true identity. "That is just absurd, you know I'd never be unfaithful to you," said Hermione, pulling her eyebrows together into a frown.

"I saw you being awfully close to Weasley the other day in the ministry," said Draco, looking down.

Hermione had nothing to say to what Draco had said, for it was true. She had been very close and cuddly with Ron. But he was her fiancé. She loved him.

"I-I," she stammered. Draco shook his head, stopping her.

"I'm not stupid, Pansy. You refuse to sleep with me; you ignore my advances on you. Hell, you shove your elbow into my ribs so that you would get out of a measly hug," he said miserably.

Hermione stared at the man sitting in front of her. He had lost so much, without even knowing it, and he was already hurting. He had lost his wife, a child… and he was completely oblivious to it all. This man was never going to know love.

Not knowing what else to do, she crawled across the mattress and settled herself next to him, leaning her side on his back and pulling her arm around him into an awkward hug. Draco's head lifted and nestled on top of her head, wrapping a long arm around her and pulling her closer. They stayed like that for a while, Draco closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of the woman that was next to him. He lifted his head off of hers and leaned down to kiss her forehead, hesitating slightly before pressing his lips to her skin, afraid of being rejected once again.

Hermione noticed him hesitating. She pulled away from him and readjusted herself onto his lap, wrapping both of her arms around his neck. She felt his hands slide down her body to rest on her waist. She shivered, feeling the warm skin of his hands pressing through the thin material of her shirt. Draco pulled his neck upwards to reach her face and press his lips gently against hers, leaning back on the mattress and bringing her down with him, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

He drifted his hands under her shirt and trailed them upwards, brushing against the small of her back. Hermione resisted the urge to pull away and allowed herself to be kissed, feeling him trail up the crook of her neck and onto her cheeks, leading back to her mouth. Shutting down all of her senses, she gave into him and let herself be taken under.


	10. Chapter Nine

**A/N: sorry for the delay guys, I was out of the country so I had no access to the internet for a while. Anyway here's the next chapter! Hope you like it **

Hermione woke up with a groan, cracking her eyes open slightly. She stretched her limbs out and brought her elbows up to rest on her forehead. She felt sore all over. Trying to recall the events that occurred last night, she let out another groan.

"Is something the matter?"

Her eyes shot open and she jolted up, smacking her head hard against Draco's head. He let out a small "oomph," as he rolled away from his spot on the bed where he was laying next to her. Hermione felt the sheets slipping from over her body and a cool breeze drifted through her. Looking down, she let out another yelp and clutched the sheets to her body, covering herself up. She peeked up to see Draco rubbing his head hard, muttering to himself.

"Draco?" she said. "What happened last night?" she asked in a small voice, sounding confused. Draco smiled and let out a small chuckle.

"Let's just say that we're working on giving Mother her grandchild," he said with a wink. Hermione felt her face whiten as she heard him say that.

"W-what?" her question tugged Draco's grin into the slightest of frowns. "Don't you remember, Pansy?" he asked, perturbed. Hermione shook her head as the details of the previous night swam back into her mind, displaying itself in front of her eyes. She gulped, her face growing hot.

"No, no, Draco," she said. "I remember, I'm just a bit tired, that's all," she said slowly, somehow managing to keep her face neutral, careful not to give any of her feelings away. Sitting up straighter, she clutched the sheets closer to her body, trying to still her trembling hands. Draco smiled, oblivious, and rolled onto his back and stretched his arms out across the cool sheets. "Me too," he said happily. "But it was worth it," he said, exhaling heavily. She looked down, her cheeks blushing crimson. Her eyes drifted across his lean form lying in bed.

Hermione nodded dumbly, silent. Clambering out of bed, she made her way to the shower. She shut the door behind her and slid down, huddling her knees to herself. Clips of events played randomly in her head, each as if in slow motion. Draco sliding his hands up and down her body. Draco grabbing her hips roughly as he turned them over in bed. Her responding to every move he made, running her fingers through his hair and up and down his chest; clutching his back as he touched her and brought her to new levels of ecstasy that she never knew existed. Her face reddened as she recalled her voice moaning out his name, encouraging him further as he paid special attention to her neck. She bit her lip, guilt suddenly surging through the heat she felt in her stomach.

All that time waiting for the chance to be with Ron after they got married... She had given herself to someone else, someone who she thought that she would never have to even entertain the thought. "Ron," she whispered softly to herself, dipping her head down to rest on her knees. She felt so guilty. How was she supposed to break this to him? How could he ever forgive her, when she would never be able to forgive herself?

The sound of the doorknob trying to turn brought her out of her thoughts. She clambered up, wiping her eyes as a few tears escaped her eyelids with the back of her hand. She quickly turned the lock in the door, locking herself in.

"Pansy, let me in! You've been in there forever," Draco's voice trickled through the door. "I need to take a shower!" Hermione leaned her head on the door, trying to compose herself.

"Just a second," she called, taking care to steady her shaking voice. She leaned her hands on the sink and stared at the reflection staring back at her in the mirror. She looked at her clear blue eyes, her thick, raven black hair, her pale skin... She wanted to scream. This was not her. This was not Hermione Granger. She did not want to be here, stuck in a life that was not hers; stuck in a life which path was most definitely entwined with Draco Malfoy. She wanted to be with Ron. Short tempered, loyal, cluelessly sweet Ronald Weasley. The love of her life. Not this sappy two faced Slytherin who had been sure to torment her for the better part of seven years; the man who had made sure to tread on every bit of self respect and dignity she had whenever he had the chance.

Yet... She felt different with Draco, despite all the horrible memories she had of him in her childhood and adolescence. He made her reach different heights of... she couldn't put her finger on the exact feeling. Was it lust? There was something different in the way she felt about him... Something that was entirely different than the feelings she had with Ron. She dreamily drifted back to the previous night, nibbling her lip as she remembered more and more. The heat returned, pooling in the pit of her stomach.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Come on, Hermione," she said to herself. "You can do this. Just do what you always do, use your brains and get yourself out of this mess," she told her reflection, nodding firmly. Drying her eyes, she ran her fingers through her hair and waved her wand, making a set of clothes appear from thin air. She fixed herself up and held her head high, opening the door to see Draco sprawled across the bed, snoring loudly.

He must have fallen back asleep. She looked around the room, thinking hard. Perhaps she could find the answers to all of her questions today. She glanced back at his sleeping form. He looked like he wouldn't be up for a while. She would use this opportunity to talk to Merlin.

Making her way downstairs, she tried to find the fireplace where Merlin's painting hung above. She followed a hallway that looked rather familiar, and let out a sigh of relief when it opened up to the landing where the fireplace was. She walked over to the painting and looked at it, gazing in wonder as she stared at the slumbering wizard clutching the wooden staff in his hand, the glowing ball of magic rotating slowly inside the intricate cage of wood. A lock of his long moustache dangled in front of his mouth, being brought in and out in time with every inhale and exhale that he took.

Hermione cleared her throat in an attempt to wake him up. Unfortunately, all that accomplished was Merlin turning away in his sleep. He carried on snoring, his head dropping further on the plush red chair. She cleared her throat again, to no avail. "Excuse me, Sir…?"

She was replied with a snort and a few smacking of the lips. She drew her eyebrows together in annoyance. Pulling out her wand, she prodded the painting with the tip, managing to poke his eye. He awoke with a start, letting out a roar.

"MY EYE," he exclaimed. "MY BIG, BEAUTIFUL BLUE EYE". Hermione watched Merlin in amusement as he clutched his eye dramatically, moaning about how his eyes were never going to be the same again.

"Oh hush," Hermione waved a hand in dismissal. "How could that have possibly hurt? I barely touched you ."

Merlin sat up quite suddenly at the sound of her voice and peered down at her. "Ah, Madam Pansy," he greeted stiffly. "To what do I owe you this pleasant encounter?"

"Rather a bit dramatic for such a great wizard," muttered Hermione to herself.

"What was that, my dear? I didn't quite catch that, my eye is in excruciating pain. I can't hear a thing," Merlin sighed mournfully, shaking his head as he clucked his tongue. Hermione resisted the urge to stick her wand in his other eye and smiled politely at the portrait. "I don't think that your eye has anything to do with your hearing," she pointed out. Merlin narrowed his eyes at her.

"You're good, kiddo," said Merlin, sobering up very quickly. "What is it that you want, Pansy?"

"I have a few questions," she replied. Merlin leaned back in his chair, looking bored. "Go ahead," he said, mimicking Hermione as he waved his hand in dismissal as she had done a few moments ago.

"Well, I-" Hermione began. She was cut off by a loud exaggerated yawn by Merlin. She narrowed her eyes at him. "I-" she tried again before she was cut off once more as his eyes drifted shut and a loud snore escaped his lips.

"You know what? I don't need your help," she huffed, turning her heel and stalking away. Merlin awoke with a jolt, springing out of his plush red chair.

"Wait, wait!" called Merlin from his portrait. Hermione paused and turned around, facing him. "I'm sorry, Madam Pansy. Please come back," he pleaded.

"I'd rather not," she replied haughtily. "You're acting quite rude and childish today. I'll visit when you've decided to act your age," she said. Merlin chuckled.

"Madam, if I acted my age, I would very well be dead and buried," he said with a very Dumbledore-like twinkle in his eye. Hermione sighed and walked back to him.

"I'm sorry, Madam Pansy," he apologized again. "You know that I get rather cranky right after I wake up," he said, a rather pensive look in his eye.

Hermione sighed. Of course. "Apparently I do," she said tiredly. Merlin let out a small laugh.

"I must say, you are rather terrible at acting, Madam."

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction at his words."Er, I don't know what you're talking about," she said nervously, casting her eyes and avoiding eye contact. Merlin shook his head, letting out a little laugh. "Oh, Hermione Granger, you underestimate me. I'm sure you are very curious as to what you are doing here," he said, smiling knowingly. Hermione took a step back.

"You know what happened?" she stammered, flabbergasted. Merlin nodded slowly, the ball of magic atop the staff seeming to glow even brighter as he smiled at her. Hermione stood there with her jaw slack, feeling a mixture of relief and disbelief. Now she could get all of her answers. Maybe she could return to her real body. She could get back with Ron. She could-

An emerald green flame burst in front of her in the fireplace, interrupting her excited train of thought. A white-blonde head emerged from the flames, followed by a slim body dressed in extravagant silky blue robes. Narcissa Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace and straightened herself, smoothing her robes down with her hands. Her contemplative pout stretched out into a smile as her eyes met Hermione.

"Oh," she exclaimed happily. "My daughter-in-law was waiting for my arrival! How delightful," she clapped her hands together and proceeded to walk into the manor, forcing Hermione to follow her. She casted a rueful glance behind her at Merlin, who resumed his place in his chair in his portrait. He waved sympathetically at her as she was dragged away by Narcissa.

Hermione held back a small scream of frustration. She was so close to finding out her answers. Hell, she would have probably gotten them and would be half way to figuring out how to set things straight if it wasn't for this infernal woman. She plastered a fake smile as Narcissa lead her to their bedroom, babbling constantly about some upcoming event. Hermione nodded and smiled as she tuned out Narcissa's voice, not noticing that the elder woman was turning the knob to the room.

"OH MY GOD, MOTHER!"

"DRACO! MY EYES!"

Hermione was brought out of her limbo as she heard Draco and his mother's voice yell out. She looked around to see Draco jump behind a changing screen just in time and Narcissa slam their door shut, her cheeks reddening.

"I should really learn how to knock," she muttered to Hermione, casting her eyes to the ground. Hermione rolled her eyes. Well honestly, what was she going to expect, just barging in on someone like that in their own room. He wasn't five anymore. The two women stood in awkward silence outside of the room; the only audible sound was the rummaging coming from inside of the room that was from Draco looking for something to wear.

Just when Hermione was about to say something to break the silence, the door flew open. Draco stepped out, dressed in a clean wizard suit, straightening his tie. He awkwardly averted his eyes away from his mother and settled them on Hermione. She stifled a sigh. It felt as if his gaze alone turned her insides into soft, melted butter.

"I'm late for a meeting," he said, pulling the tie into a knot. His voice was so deep...

She frowned, snapping herself out of her thoughts. She was with Ron. She did not know what this feeling was, but she loved Ron. She-

He growled in frustration as the tie nestled in an awkward position at the base of his throat. Hermione lost her train of thought and stared at him. He was about to yank the tie off when Hermione stepped in and gently tugged the tie out of its knot and loosened it. She pulled the collar of his shirt up and adjusted the tie around his neck and lightly pulled it back into a knot that was tied snugly in the hollow of his throat. She raised her blue eyes and bore into his stormy grey eyes, holding his gaze, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Well," breathed Narcissa. "Looks like you're in good hands, Son." Draco cleared his throat gruffly at his mother's words.

"Yes, I am," he replied, a brief smile gracing his pale face. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Mother, I have to get to my meeting. Pansy, I'll pick you up for lunch at one," he said. Turning on the spot, he Disapparated with a loud crack.

Narcissa glanced back at Hermione and beamed. "Well, I have to be off to see Lucius. I'll see you both in a couple of days."

Hermione nodded. "That would be lovely," she said politely. Narcissa strode past her and disappeared into the crackle of green fire. She sighed. Now she had the house to herself. She could finally get her answers with no interruptions.

She walked slowly to the fireplace, taking her place in front of the painting. Merlin cast a grin towards her which she returned. "Now," said Merlin. "What would you like to know?"

**A/N: so what do you guys think? Please leave a review! **


	11. Chapter Ten

Hermione pulled her chin up as she scrutinised herself in the mirror. She pulled her sleek black hair into a simple elegant ponytail, securing it with a blue ribbon clasp. Satisfied with her appearance, she took a step back and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She smoothed down her powder blue dress robes and wiped a smudge of eyeliner under her eyelashes. Draco was going to be here to pick her up for lunch at any minute now.

She sighed, walking to a couch and settling herself there, pulling her feet up and resting her head on the armrest. She closed her eyes, trying to push back whatever Merlin had told her a few hours earlier. She couldn't afford to think about such matters right now. She had to keep her facade up, and she could not do that if she was distracted. She had to be fully focused. She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall across the room as it began to chime, announcing that it was one o'clock.

As if on cue, Draco Apparated in the middle of the living room. Hermione ignored her insides squirming as he shot her a charming smile and reached for her hand. She rose up from her seat and graciously took his hand, her smile growing wider as it wrapped tightly around hers.

"Where would you like to have lunch today?" asked Draco, placing a chaste kiss on her mouth. Hermione swallowed, pretending not to notice the fire that was dancing beneath her skin. "Um, er," she stammered. Draco held back a smug grin, very well aware of the effect he was having on her.

"You choose," said Hermione shyly. She wasn't sure where Pansy usually dined, and did not want to make yet another mistake. Draco nodded and gripped her hand tightly. Hermione felt the familiar squeezing sensation of Apparation. They appeared with a loud crack in front of a quaint cafe at the side of the road. Hermione looked around. The cafe was familiar; most of the wizards and witches who worked at the Ministry came here for their midday lunch. Draco guided her to a table outside of the cafe and pulled out a chair for her and then took a seat in front of her. He transfigured a leaf on the floor into a large umbrella that shadowed them from the blazing sun. A waitress drifted by, scribbling down their orders. She left, although not before shooting a flirtatious grin at Draco.

Hermione felt, surprisedly, a twang of jealousy as the waitress left, her hair piled up in a high bun on her head. She felt another twinge of surprise as she felt satisfaction surge through as her as Draco didn't even seem to notice the waitress.

Hermione and Draco sank into playful banter as they began talking to each other across the table. She found that she enjoyed conversing with him; he was witty, charming and quick at returning playful comments and teasing. She found herself dissolving into giggles at each of his jokes, genuinely finding them funny. This was the first time since she was trapped in Pansy's body that she had the chance to actually talk to him; to get to know him. She realized that she liked the person that he was. She felt comfortable with him. Their conversation was punctuated when the waitress returned after a few minutes with their food, waving her wand that was tucked behind her ear and Accio'ed their drinks to the table.

"Yum," said Draco, smacking his lips as he inhaled the scent of his pumpkin sandwich. Hermione secretly gagged. She could never bring herself to eat the weird combinations that wizards had for food. She preferred muggle food by far. Draco raised an eyebrow questioningly at her order.

"What's that?" he asked. Hermione glanced down at her plate.

"Er, a burger," she said, bemused. "I, er, heard about it from these muggle-borns the other day and I was curious."

"It looks like a heart attack in a bun, if you ask me," said Draco, eyeing the juice dripping down the burger as she took a large bite from it. She shrugged, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Your loss," she smiled, licking her lips as she reached for the fries. Draco's eyes widened.

"Pansy! Stop! I think they slipped pixie wands onto your plate!" cried Draco, pointing at the potatoes. "You're eating somebody else's wands!" he said worriedly as she chewed on the fries. "Don't worry, I'll call in a Healer from St. Mungo's-" she shoved a handful of fries into his mouth, effectively shutting him up as he groaned at the new flavours erupting in his mouth. "On second thought," he said with his mouth full, "I don't think those pixies will mind..."

"You know, Pansy," said Draco after he swallowed. "You're kind of different these days". Hermione held back a small gasp of surprise at his words. Unfortunately, she was taking a sip of her lemonade at that moment, and she inhaled a mouthful of her juice. Draco waved his wand at her, clearing her airway in an instance. Coughing, she pounded her fist against her chest.

"Um, what do you mean, different?" she asked casually, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Draco shook his head. "I don't know really, but it's in a good way," he smiled. "You seemed so depressed the last few days, I was just getting worried a bit, that's all."

"Oh?" said Hermione, leaning forward in her chair. Draco nodded.

"Yeah, I don't know, but you were..." Draco's voice zoned out of her mind as Hermione's eyes settled on something behind him.

She would never be able to mistaken that flaming shock of red hair anywhere. Ron was strolling into the cafe. She unconsciously sat up straighter, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. She hadn't seen Ron in such a while, and missed him terribly so. A whole rush of emotions poured through her mind, and her eyes fluttered. She was about to try and get his attention when another woman sidled up next to him.

What? Who was that? Hermione narrowed her eyes in disbelief. Her heart dropped with a loud plunk in her body as she saw his hand slide around her waist and the woman place a small kiss on his neck. Time seemed to slow down to a halt as she saw him return the kiss, full on the lips. She stood up abruptly.

"Pansy?" said Draco, confused."Is something the matter?" He whirled his head around to see what she was staring at.

"Weasley?" he said, his eyes resting on the tall, lanky form stooping slightly to get through the doorway of the cafe. "Oh yeah, I forgot to mention. Apparently he's seeing some wench from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Quite atrocious really, you'd think he'd take some more time to mourn his fiancé," said Draco, taking another bite out of his sandwich. "But what else could you expect? Granger was only a lowly Mudblood. Shouldn't have taken him long to get over that, I expect."

Hermione sat down slowly, staring at her plate of food, her appetite suddenly lost. She pulled her chair in as she leaned against the table, putting her hand above her eyes to shield them from the sight that was breaking her heart. The sound of her chair scraping against the ground attracted the other customers' stares, including Ron. He turned his head to the source of the terrible screeching sound, ready to send a glare at whoever it was making that infernal noise. His eyes lingered on Pansy, her forlorn expression searing through him as she stared.

Something was tugging at Ron's brain; something was screaming at him to step away from the other woman... that he was hurting someone. He stared right at Hermione, seeing only the pug-faced girl he had known since Hogwarts sitting with the man who once made him spew out slugs. He shuddered at the memory. Brushing the thought away from his mind, Ron walked away with his date, his hand placed protectively on the small of her back as he lead her to a secluded spot inside of the cafe.

"Let's leave, Draco," said Hermione quietly. Draco sent another questioning look at her. "Okay," he said, sounding confused. He laid a couple of Galleons on the table and stood up with Hermione.

"I have to get back to work," said Draco, holding his elbow out for Hermione to take. "I expect I'll be back home quite late, I've missed quite a few days of work". Hermione nodded.

"You'll be alright?" asked Draco, not missing her sad face. She blinked back a few tears and took a deep breath. "I'll be fine," she said, drawing up to her full height. She was a Gryffindor through and through; she had the courage to pull herself through this. "I think I'll pay my friends a visit," continued Hermione.

"Okay," said Draco. He put his hand up to call the waitress. "Miss, I'll have a plate of those pixie wands to go," he called out. The waitress eyes him warily, disappearing and returning with a bag full of small twigs that were supposedly pixie wands.

That being said, Draco pecked his wife's lips goodbye and disappeared with a loud crack, Disapparating. Hermione looked around once more before leaving, momentarily catching Ron's eye before she Disapparated herself.

She missed Ron's expression as the gears in his brain clicked together. "Hermione..." he stared at the empty spot from inside the cafe where the brunette stood a few moments ago. He could still feel the burn piercing his back from the icy blue eyes that bored into him. He gulped. "I'm screwed," he whispered to himself, wincing.

Hermione Apparated into the Ministry breathless. She had been trying to take deep breaths to calm herself. Not knowing what else to do, she began walking. Soon, she ended up in front of Harry's office.

She stared at the door, her eyes lingering on the golden plaque that had Harry's name engraved on it. Taking in another deep breath, she turned the knob and walked in.

"Harry, I hope this isn't a bad time- OH MY GOD!"

"HERM- er, I mean, PANSY!"

"PARKINSON, DIDNT ANYONE EVER TEACH YOU HOW TO KNOCK?"

"OH MERLIN, I DIDN'T KNOW THAT POSITION WAS EVEN POSSIBLE!" Hermione cried as she shielded her eyes. She heard some rustling as Ginny and Harry scrambled to find their clothes.

"It's safe to turn around," came Harry's voice gruffly. Hermione turned around to see Ginny buttoning up her blouse, her fiery red hair in disarray. Harry was just finishing buckling his belt, his jet black hair sticking up in odd angles.

"What are you doing here, Parkinson?" Ginny spat at her. Hermione gulped back another wave of tears, the venom in her eyes stinging her even more so in her state. Harry sighed, shaking his head.

"Gin, I'm so sorry but I need you to step outside of the office," he said apologetically. Ginny narrowed her eyes at Hermione. "Okay, Harry. I'll see you after Quidditch practice," she said, leaving a kiss on his mouth as she skipped outside. "We'll continue later," she called out with a wink, Disapparating with a loud crack, although not before sending yet another venomous glare at Hermione.

Harry pointed his wand at the door, slamming it shut and clicking the lock shut.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked. Hermione stood quietly for a moment before letting out a few incoherent sentences, riddled with sniffs and tears, and then stumbled towards him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face there, sobbing. Harry, not knowing what to do, awkwardly positioned his arms around her in a manner he thought was comforting.

"Er, there, there," he said, patting her back. She drew back, her pale face all splotchy with red patches. "You suck at this," she said, sniffing. Harry let out a small chuckle, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. "I know, 'Mione," he said, resting his chin on top of her head. "I'm a guy, give me credit," he said with a smile. "Is this better?"

Hermione let a small laugh escape her lips. "Yes," she said, sniffling. She brought up a hand to wipe away her tears.

"Want to tell me what this is about again? This time, in a language that I can understand," he teased after she had calmed down. Hermione cast her eyes to the ground, biting her lip. "Oh, Harry, where do I even begin?" she said forlornly. "I'm married to Malfoy, and I had to do... well what you and Ginny were doing just now, and I just found out why and how I'm in Pansy's body from Merlin, and then just a few minutes ago I was having lunch with Malfoy and I saw Ron with another woman at that little cafe by the Ministry," she said in one breath, letting another sob escape her lips. She looked back up at Harry to see him wearing the most confused look he had ever had in his life.

"You did _what?_" asked Harry dangerously, his mind still stuck on the first part of her sentence. Hermione shook her head. "Harry, don't berate me, it's the last thing I need now for Merlin's sake," she said. "And besides, does Molly even know that you and Ginny are doing it? Shame on you, Harry! In your own office too. What if it had been Arthur who walked in on you instead of me?" she chided him through her tears. Harry lowered his head and mumbled something incoherently.

"That's what I thought," huffed Hermione. Harry shook his head. "Wait, 'Mione," he said. "You found out how you got in Pansy's body?" he asked. Hermione nodded yes.

"From _Merlin?_"

"It's a long story," she sighed. "There's a painting in the Malfoy Manor," Hermione explained. "Anyway, it seems like Pansy was friends with him, and he figured out who I was while I was pretending to be Pansy," she said.

"So what did he say?" asked Harry. "Why are you in Pansy's body? How did you get there?"

"Well," began Hermione. "Apparently, Pansy was pregnant-"

"YOU'RE PREGNANT?" Harry exploded. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Wait... She wasn't in front of Narcissa or Draco. In that case...

"You know, 'Mione," said Harry. "I didn't know you could roll your eyes like that. Won't it get stuck if you do it that far back?"

"Let me finish," growled Hermione in response. "And no, I'm not pregnant. Pansy terminated the pregnancy. Somehow, that resulted in her demise. According to Merlin, we both died at the exact same time, and on the way to wherever our souls were supposed to go to after we die, mine got confused and ended up in Pansy's body," she said. "It was quite simple, really. Now, Merlin doesn't know _why_ that happened. Heck, the last time that ever happened was well into the medieval times, and those who had it happen to them were declared insane and were locked away."

"Does he know if there's a way for you to get out of her body and return to your original body?" asked Harry, perturbed. Hermione shook her head mournfully. "Not for me, there isn't," she said sadly. "My body's been buried already; there is no body for me to return to."

Harry let out a growl of frustration. "So what now, then? You're stuck like this forever?" he asked. Hermione shook her head again. "No."

Harry brightened up at her answer. "So what will happen then?" he asked. "Does your body eventually transform into your original body or something like that? I'd love to see the look on Malfoy's face when he wakes up one day next to Hermione Granger," he said, grinning. He looked up at her. She looked away.

"Harry, that's not how it works," she said. "Soon enough, my true features will begin to show, bit by bit... my wounds will reappear..." Hermione trailed off.

"We can do something about it, though," said Harry determinedly. "We have medicines, healers, magic, everything! We know how to counteract your wounds. Heck, even some simple gauze and tape will do, wont it?" he asked desperately. Hermione smiled sadly. "Harry, it doesn't work that way... I will be dead within the end of the month."

"No," said Harry firmly. Hermione stared at him sadly, unmoving. "No," repeated Harry, blinking back tears. "I'm not losing you too; I refuse to lose you too," he said. Hermione closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his large frame, burying her face into his chest as she cried once more. She felt teardrops land on her head, and she moved away slightly to see Harry's bottle green eyes welling up, tears rolling down his cheeks. He enveloped her with his long arms, squeezing her against him tightly.

"You're my best mate," said Harry. "We'll find a way to get through this; there _has_ to be a way out of this."

"I hope so, Harry," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"And as for Ron... I'll deal with that sorry arse later, mark my words," promised Harry. Hermione chuckled lightly. "I know, Harry. I know," she replied.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon together, catching up on the past few days. They ended up ordering dinner and eating it in his office, making a complete mess on his table. The two completely lost track of time until an owl flew into Harry's office, dropping an envelope onto his mail tray. He looked at his watch before remembering that it did not work with all the magic in the air, and then looked out at the sky.

"It's getting late, 'Mione," said Harry. "I think we should be getting home now, I don't want you going alone to the Manor. Merlin knows how dangerous it can get at night." Hermione nodded, getting up from her seat.

"It's been nice catching up," she said, smiling at Harry. He returned the smile, standing up as well. "We should do this again soon."

"Definitely," agreed Hermione. Walking to the fireplace, she took a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the glowing embers. "Malfoy Manor," she called out in a clear voice, nodding at Harry as she was whisked away into the living room of the Manor.

Stumbling out of the fireplace, she dusted the soot off of her robes and went down into the kitchens, filling a goblet full of water. Taking a sip, she turned around to see Draco muttering to himself as he opened the bag he had from the cafe earlier.

"Darn pixie wands," he muttered as he chewed miserably on the twigs, spitting out golden pixie dust. He sneezed, rubbing his nose as he reached into the bag for another handful of pixie twigs. Hermione caught his eye and they both giggled.

"Let's go to sleep," suggested Hermione, taking the bag away from him gently. Draco nodded in agreement, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Draco Malfoy, what are you planning to-" Hermione began to berate him. She was cut off by him sweeping his wife off of her feet and Apparating into their room with a loud crack and laying her down on their bed. She was constantly surprised by how sweet this man could be.

He climbed into the bed next to her, slipping under the duvet and cuddling up to her body. She smiled into the darkness. Maybe, just maybe, she might be falling in love with him. She let out a small sigh and pulled her hair out of her ponytail, letting her chocolate curly mane cover her pillow beneath her head before drifting off to sleep.


	12. Chapter Eleven

**A/N: once again, sorry for the late update guys! Hope you all enjoy (: leave a review please :D it kinda motivates me to write faster ;)**

"Madam, please," pleaded Poppy. "Master Malfoy is being very upset with Poppy if Madam does not come down".

"I'm sorry Poppy, but please tell Master Malfoy that he does not own me, and I do not have to listen to whatever he says," she said stubbornly, huffing as she plopped down onto the chair in front of the vanity mirror, pulling her bathrobe tight around her body. "And tell him that he can't lay a finger on you," she added as an afterthought. She noticed a curly tendril sticking out of the towel she wrapped around her head and hurriedly tucked it back in.

"Ooh," squeaked the little House Elf in delight. "Is Madam trying a new look for Madam's hair?" he asked excitedly. Hermione nodded nervously at him. "Er, sure," she replied, turning to face the mirror again. "Let's go with that," she muttered to herself as she slowly unwrapped the towel, running her fingers through her dark brown curls.

"What do you think?" asked Hermione, turning her head to the elf.

"Madam is looking wonderful," Poppy replied. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Honestly," she said, raising an eyebrow. Poppy squeaked nervously.

"Madam... Madam is looking like... Madam's head was attacked by Kneazles," he said hesitantly, quickly throwing his hands over his head protectively. Hermione blinked. "Poppy... Poppy is not surprised that Madam has been trying to hide Madam's hair for the past few weeks..."

"Um..." Hermione trailed off. Was her hair really that bad? "Well, I must applaud you for your honesty, Poppy," she said somewhat kindly. Poppy peeked at her through his fingers, his large orange eyes shining. "Really?" he asked timidly. Hermione held back a small laugh.

"Yes, Poppy, really," she said. "Actually, I'm quite proud of you. Although next time, try being a little less blunt," she chuckled. Hesitantly, Poppy withdrew his hands away from his face and beamed at her.

"Madam is proud?" he asked, blinking his large orbs at her.

"Yes," she smiled. Poppy thrust his chest out proudly. "Poppy is going to tell Master Malfoy that Madam is doing whatever Madam pleases to do," he said, giving her a toothy grin. "You go do that," she replied, laughing. With that, Poppy strutted out of the room and disappeared with a loud crack as he snapped his fingers.

Hermione let out a sigh. Her hair had already turned back to how it had looked on her old body. It was only a matter of time... She looked at herself in the mirror again. Her hair wasn't really that bad... Was it? She glanced at it, grimacing at the way her curls frazzled, giving her the appearance not unlike an afro. She grabbed her wand off of the table and pointed it to her head, casting an anti-frizz charm. She closed her eyes as she heard the small zap from wand and then the slight sizzle that came from her hair as the spell settled.

She opened her eyes.

Her screams echoed across the Manor grounds, sending flocks of birds scattering across the sky as they all squawked and chirped in alarm at the terrible banshee-like scream.

"Pansy?" Draco's voice called out frantically as he Apparated to the room. Panicking, Hermione threw a pillowcase over her head and sent the door slamming shut in Draco's face with her wand. He opened the door forcefully and burst inside, his wand drawn, ready to attack at the slightest hint of danger. He stopped scanning the room as his eyes rested on Hermione's form.

"Er... Pansy?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you wearing that pillowcase on your head?"

"Because I want to," huffed Hermione, crossing her arms across her chest. Draco shook his head slowly, sighing.

"Pansy, stop being so silly. We have to be at the Ministry's bloody banquet in about five minutes, and you aren't even dressed yet!" he exclaimed, annoyed.

"I don't want to go," replied Hermione coolly as she sat on the bed, facing the other way childishly.

"Do you think I want to?" replied Draco. "We _have_ to be there. The Minister has personally requested our presence at the bloody banquet, and the entire ministry is going to be there. It would be _social_ _suicide_ if we don't show up," he said the last sentence slowly, trying to provoke her into going. Hermione held back a scoff. Of course Pansy would fly up at a chance to flaunt herself around at a social event.

"Why do you keep cursing at the banquet so much?" asked Hermione in a lighter tone, ignoring whatever else he had said. Draco looked confused. "How do I keep cursing at the banquet?" he asked. Hermione exhaled heavily. "You keep saying "bloody banquet". If you keep cursing it so much, then why do you care so much about whether we go or not?"

"How am I cursing the banquet? It's a bloody banquet!"

"See? There you go again! You cursed at it!"

"No, literally. It's a Bloody Banquet. That's the theme for the event," said Draco obviously. "It's being thrown in honour of vampires, duh."

"Duh? Did you _really_ just say "duh"?" said Hermione.

"I heard a couple of kids saying it in Hogsmeade the other day," said Draco defensively. "It's _cool,_" he huffed. Hermione shook her head, exasperated.

"Whatever," she muttered under her breath.

After a few moments of silence, Draco let out a heavy sigh. "If you don't get dressed in this instant," he said dangerously. "I will have no choice but to dress you myself." His threat was met with an icy glare.

"Okay then," said Draco as he walked towards her. "It's clear you've made your decision". He stopped a few feet away from her and put his hand on his chin thoughtfully. "Ah," he muttered, waving his wand at her. Hermione grudgingly glanced at herself before she almost jumped up in horror.

"WHAT AM I WEARING EXACTLY?"

"What? I think it looks very nice," said Draco with his nose up in the air, taking pride in his choice of wardrobe for his wife. Hermione looked miserably at her outfit. It looked like a cross between what an elf and a clown would wear. She was wearing a pointy green hat with a matching dress, complete with oversized colourful clown shoes and large orange fuzzy buttons on the bodice of her dress. She lifted the pillowcase slightly to see her face in the mirror

"_This_ is what you call makeup?" she asked dangerously. "I look like some sort of drag queen!" She cried, eyeing the hideous shade of green that were painted on her lids and the sloppily applied eyeliner that outlined her eyes. She pursed her now blood red lips, her face paling underneath the heavily applied foundation. Her cheeks were sporting two round circles of red blush, making her appear quite ridiculous.

"Well, you had your choice," shrugged Draco in reply. Hermione glanced at her reflection in the mirror again. It was all too much. She couldn't help it; she blinked back tears. "But I don't want to go," she whimpered. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Too bad. You're going, and that's final."

"B-but I'm..." Hermione's words trailed into a quiet mumble.

"What was that? I couldn't quite catch what you said."

"I'm BALD," she cried, tearing the pillowcase off of her head. Draco blinked as the sun's rays bounced off of her head and struck him directly in his cornea.

"MY EYES!" he cried, his voice riddled in pain as he clutched them, shielding them from the menacing rays. Hermione, thinking that he was covering his eyes from how terrible she looked, burst into tears, throwing her head under the covers.

"No, no, baby please stop crying," pleaded Draco at the sound of her crying, removing his hands from his eyes. He put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "It doesn't look so bad. Just come out from under the covers and let me see what we can do about your hair," he coaxed. Hermione sniffed. "Really?" she asked, he voice muffled from underneath all the layers she had her head buried under.

"Yes," Draco reassured her. Hermione slowly drew her head out from under the covers. Unfortunately, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds at that instant, its rays striking her head once more and reflecting into his eyes again.

"IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"He wailed, throwing his arm across his face. Hermione glared at him, crossing her arms angrily. "Oh, come now, it can't be so bad that it burns your eyes," she scoffed.

"Poppy!" Draco cried in anguish. "Close the darned blinds! Draw the curtains! OH IT BURNS! IT BURNS!"

Hermione sniffs turned into wails as she threw herself once more under the covers of the bed.

"Oh Merlin," he cursed, shaking his head. Taking care to avoid her bare head, he eyed the clumps of hair that were on the floor curiously.

"Er, Pansy?" Draco asked. "Since when was your hair brown and curly?"

Hermione stopped crying abruptly and lifted her head up. "Er, after-effects of the anti-frizz spell?" she suggested. Draco sighed, shaking his head again. "The things women do to themselves..." he trailed off sympathetically. "I'm glad we men never do any of those ridiculous things women do. It's just mad..."

He was about to continue his rant when Hermione's glare cut him off. He grinned sheepishly at her and then Accio'd a book of hair spells from the library. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"What?" asked Draco.

"You have a book of spells on _hair?"_

"How else do you think my hair is this lustrous?" said Draco proudly, puffing his chest out as he ran his fingers through his white-blonde hair. Hermione rolled her eyes. Typical.

After an hour of coaxing Hermione to get ready for the banquet and changing her clothes and fixing her hair, the couple finally made it to the banquet. He had managed to bring back Pansy's straight black hair, although in a few moments it changed back to the frizzy, curly haired mess that Hermione had spent her whole life trying to tame. Whatever magic that was keeping her in Pansy's body, it was obviously too strong for any normal spell.

Grudgingly, Hermione clutched at Draco's arm, her nose up in the air in the most Pansy-like manner she could muster as she picked the tail of her long silvery gown off of the floor to keep it from trailing behind her. She had all of her bushy hair pinned back into a bun on the top of her head, adorned by a few green emeralds here and there. Draco stared at his wife in wonder. She always looked so pretty... He was so lucky. He straightened his tie that sat snugly at the base of his neck and readjusted his dress robes, looking around at the other guests. Seeing Hermione at unease, he led her to the bar.

"One Firewhiskey for me, and a Butterbeer for the lady," Draco ordered the busboy. He nodded quickly at Draco and scurried away, shortly returning with their drinks. Hermione opened her mouth in protest.

"I can very well order any drink that I want for myself," said Hermione. Draco sighed. "We're trying to conceive, remember?" he told her as he felt the burn of Hermione's glare as he put the mug of Butterbeer in her hand. "It's best to keep the alcohol levels low." Draco spotted a few of his friends from his department and excused himself from his wife, calling out Blaise's name across the hall.

Hermione sighed, twirling in her chair slightly as she stirred her mug of Butterbeer lazily with her wand.

"Er, Hermione," a low voice said her name. Startled by the use of her real name, Hermione twirled around to face the source of the voice, only to see Ron standing apologetically behind her. She narrowed her eyes at him and glared.

"What do you want, Ronald Weasley?" she sneered in a rather Draco-like way. Ron blinked, surprised at the degree of harshness in her tone.

"I, er, want to explain what happened the other day," he said slowly, watching her to see her reaction. Hermione shook her head, taking a large sip before answering him.

"That was over two weeks ago," she said somewhat angrily. "You decide to fess up now? I'm your _fiancée_, Ronald," she hissed. "No matter who's body I am residing in, I'm still your fiancée. I'm still Hermione. Your Hermione," she said quietly, her voice thickening. Ron trained his eyes on a rather interesting spot on the marble floor, pulling at the collar of his shocking red dress robes.

"I know, 'Mione," he said quietly. "It's not what you think. Just give me a chance to explain," he pleaded. Hermione glared at him again.

"Okay, fine. Explain," she offered after a moment of silence. Ron's eyes slightly widened. He hadn't been counting on her to let him explain.

"Er, that is to say... Um, she wasn't.. Uh..."

"Spit it out," Hermione hissed at him again. Ron's ears reddened to a violent shade of crimson, rivalling the colour of his hair. She took in a deep breath. There had to be a logical explanation to all of this. Right? _Right? _She looked at Ron, this time her eyes full of desperation. She didn't want to lose the man she loved...

"I... You... You're with Malfoy," Ron finally offered. "It's too much for me to handle." Hermione tapped her foot on the footrest of her seat. "_Too much for you to handle_?" she scoffed. "How do you think it is for _me, _Ronald? Do you think I _chose_ to be with him? Do you think I... I want to be with-" she cut herself off, her voice thickening too much to continue. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, to no avail. A few tears leaked out of her eyes. Ron stood there in front of her, gaping.

Finally, he took her hand and led her to an isolated spot in the hall. He passed Harry and Ginny, not looking up to meet Harry's questioning glance at him. She could feel Draco's stare as Ron gripped her hand tighter. Ron put both of his hands on her shoulders and looked at her in the eye, at a loss for words.

"I think," said Ron after a few moments. "I think that it's best we don't..." he trailed off, not able to bring himself to complete his sentence. Hermione remained silent, understanding what he was trying to say. The wedding was off. They were off.

"Why?" she asked desperately, ignoring the tears sliding freely down her cheeks. Ron bit his lip, struggling to come up with something to say. "Harry told me," he said. "You're going to be gone in two weeks.I... I lost you once," he whispered. "I'm sorry, but I can't put myself through the pain of losing you again. I'm sorry," he repeated.

"No, no," she contradicted him, placing both of her hands on top of his. "There could be a way to fix this," she said. "You never know, I can try to find out as much as I can, and Harry-"

"'Mione," Ron interrupted her. "I'm not... I'm not interested in you anymore. I don't love you anymore. There's someone else".

Hermione blinked, her jaw slack.

"W-what? Why?"

"I don't know," Ron admitted, staring hard at the floor. "I just don't anymore."

Hermione stared at him. She felt her heart shatter at his words; the way he had said them so coldly... so abruptly. "Someone else?" she repeated slowly. Ron nodded, staring hard at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. She gulped back a sob, putting her hand to her mouth, her eyes screwing up tightly. Ron's eyes teared up, unbeknownst to her, his clear blue orbs glistening in the light of the hall as he felt the witch in front of him emotionally crumple.

"And come on, 'Mione," he continued. He had to continue. "You can't deny that you don't have any feelings for Malfoy either," he said, closing his eyes, not wanting to hear her answer. He bit his lip at her silence. Lifting his head up, he stared right into her eyes. Her beautiful, unfamiliar eyes.

"I know you. I've known you ever since we've met on that day on the Hogwarts Express," he said, a small smile playing on his lips as he recalled the eleven year old bushy haired witch walking into the small compartment in search of Neville Longbottom's toad, and ended up showing him up at fixing Harry's glasses, a spell which had been far more impressive than his spell to turn his fat rat yellow. "You are smitten by him," he said finally, holding his chin up. Hermione began to shake her head when Ron placed both of his hands on her face.

"He can make you happier than I can," he told her. "Don't deny it to yourself that you don't have even the slightest bit of affection for him." Hermione gulped again, more fat tears rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto his hands.

"Is there a problem here?" Draco's voice came from behind them. Hermione turned around, half relieved to find Draco standing there. She sniffed and shook her head. "Stay out of this, Malfoy," shot Ron.

"I don't think I will," he shot back, narrowing his eyes. "And pray tell me, why is my wife crying?" he sneered at the red haired Gryffindor. Hermione lifted her bloodshot eyes to meet his. "It's fine, Draco," she told him quietly. "Weasley," she emphasized her use of Ron's last name. "Was just leaving." Draco raised his eyebrows in alarm.

"Pansy," he whispered. "There's something wrong with your eyes," he said quietly, his expression ridden with lines of worry.

Hermione let out a small sigh. "Draco, it's normal for people's eyes to go red after they've had a bit of a cry," she said. Draco shook his head. "I know that, I'm not a moron," he huffed at her, Ron's existence momentarily forgotten.

"Then what?" she asked. Draco grabbed her shoulders and took a closer look at her eyes.

"Your eyes are-"

"'Mione! One of your eyes are blue and the other is brown!" exclaimed Ron suddenly from behind them.

"Weasel's right, Pansy. Your eyes are- wait," Draco cut himself off. He swirled around to face Ron. "What did you call her? He asked .He glanced sheepishly at Hermione, silently asking for help. She gaped, her mouth hanging open.

Draco glanced at her confusedly before shaking his head. "Weasley, my wife's name is _Pansy_" he finally spat at him. "I don't even know how your puny mind came to distinguish her as your dead fiancée. Come on, Pansy. Let's get you home and have your eyes looked at," he said to her, leading her to the entrance of the hall. The pair Disapparated with a loud crack, leaving Ron standing miserably in the hall. He watched the spot where the love of his life had disappeared in the arms of another man, his heart sinking. He _had_ to lie to her. He had to... It was for her own good.

Wasn't it?

**Still hate Ron? ;)**


	13. Chapter Twelve

**A/N: sorry for the late update! Starting off uni and all is kinda tiring and I've been mostly working on my other story, Guardian Angel, but here you go! PLEASE REVIEW!**

"I'm fine, Draco," insisted Hermione. Draco seemed unable to hear her as she kept repeating herself. "Step into the light so I can get a better look at your eyes," he said, tugging her arm towards the bedside table as he switched on the lamp.

"Draco, you're not listening to me," Hermione wrenched her arm away from him irritably. "I'm _fine_. God, there's nothing wrong with me! It's probably just some bad reaction to the Butterbeer I had or something."

"No, no, I saw in this muggle horror film that this girl had her eyes turn a different colour and then she became possessed! Merlin knows we don't need that," he said, tsking.

"The Unborn?"

"How'd you know that?"

Hermione shrugged. "Er, I heard some muggleborns talking about it in Diagon Alley the other day," she lied smoothly, mentally kicking herself for almost giving herself away. "Oh," said Draco. A moment of silence passed between.

"Alright," said Draco finally. "We'll just wait and see if your eyes get worse, and if it does, we're taking you to the Healers."

"Fine," replied Hermione. She was getting nervous. She was letting too many things slip. She knew that her eyes would "get worse" in the morning. If her hair didn't give her away, then her eyes changing would certainly reveal her true identity. Draco wasn't an idiot. He couldn't buy all of her excuses. Honestly, an anti-frizz charm gone wrong and a bad reaction to Butterbeer?

"I'm going down to my study," announced Draco, shrugging his jacket off of his dressrobes and draping it over a chair. "There are a few papers I have to do before I have to go to work tomorrow." Hermione let out a hmm in acknowledgement, not moving her eyes away from the corner she was staring at. She was too deep in thought.

Hearing the door click softly shut, she walked over to the vanity table and undid her bun, pulling out the many grips she had put in to control the frazzled curls. She leaned in closer to the mirror, swallowing a groan. One of her eyes was completely brown, and the other had a crescent of brown appearing at the tip of her iris. Her chin was a slightly different shape too. In fact, she looked more like Hermione Granger than Pansy Parkinson. This was not good.

She sighed, making her way to the bed as she undressed and slipped on a nightgown. Perhaps taking a walk around the Manor would do her some good. She glanced at the moon through the window, glowing brightly in the velvety night sky. It was around midnight. She thought she could see a phoenix flying by in the distance. She peered through the window, watching the trail of fiery red feathers trail after the magnificent bird.

Perhaps midnights stroll around the gardens, she decided to herself. Throwing a cloak over herself to keep herself warm, she made her way out onto the banister and Apparated into the garden, breathing in the crisp air around her.

Meanwhile, Draco was sitting in his study, swirling around in his chair. He was glad his mate Blaise convinced him to that muggle contraption called a compooper chair or something like that. He sat there, thinking to himself as he sent a few blasts of fire into the fireplace, lighting it. He watched the flames flicker and dance around.

He was worried. There was no doubt about that. Why was Pansy acting so weird? Was she in an affair? He had enough reason to worry about that. Merlin knows how many times he had caught the many men staring after her perfect figure, her elegant ways, her beautiful, _beautiful_ face. He was just… Draco Malfoy. Sure, he was always proud of that fact, but in secret…

He was insecure about himself. His family had come from a long line of bad people. He had to keep the façade up, but in reality, he just wasn't like that. He saw what happened to the people who were… different from the rest of the family. Sirius Black, Andromeda Black…

Well, his mother was a Black. There seemed to be a handful of good people from there. He must have gotten that virtue from there. But of course, he did not want to be abandoned by his family, disowned; blasted off of the freaking family tree, automatically resigning his position as heir to the Malfoy fortune. So he kept his façade up.

Draco's mind spun back to Pansy. Pansy Parkinson… his childhood friend and sweetheart. He had always loved her, although she could have her intolerably annoying moments. However, lately she had become… off. Ever since she heard about the news that Hermione Granger had died, actually. He frowned. No, it couldn't-

"OW! BLOODY MERLIN'S HAIRY LEFT EAR!" Draco howled, clutching his toe. He let out a string of profanities as he nursed his stubbed toe, glaring at the floor, searching for the object he had hit his foot on. His eyes zeroed in on a small black book laying on the floor, widening when he saw Pansy's name engraved on it.

"What the…" he muttered to himself as he bent over to reach the book. He picked it up, fingering the binding of the book. His mind flashed back to where Pansy would viciously scribble down events of the day at night, snapping it shut whenever Draco had tried to see. So, this was the secretive journal, huh?

He eyed the silver edged pages, his fingers itching to open the book and reveal its secrets.

No. it would be wrong. It's an invasion of privacy! He was about to put the book away in his drawer when his mind returned to the memory of Pansy scribbling in it every now and then, shrieking when he tried to sneak a peek and snapping it shut. Whatever was written in there, he _knew_ it must hold at least some of the answers to his questions.

He placed it on his desk, staring at it. It wouldn't hurt to just maybe peek a little into it, would it? I mean, it's for a good cause, after all. Maybe he could make his wife happier again… Right? He inched forwards, placing his hands on the cover of the book.

* * *

><p>Hermione snuck past Draco's study, trying to make her way quietly back to their room. She saw the dull light coming out from the door that was left slightly ajar.<p>

"Oh crap," she cursed under her breath. How was she supposed to pass the door to get back to their room without being noticed?

Taking a deep breath, she peeked into the room, watching to see if Draco would be able to notice anything. Luckily for her, he was hunched over on the table, reading something intently. She exhaled a sigh of relief, tip-toeing past the study. She ran up the stairs as soon as she was out of earshot from the room and snuggled back into the comforter on the bed.

* * *

><p>After a couple of hours, Draco lifted his head up from the table, slowly placing the book down. He blinked rapidly, clenching and unclenching his jaw over and over again. He glanced at the journal, Pansy's name glinting at him mockingly in the glowing firelight. He winced and rubbed his tired eyes.<p>

What the heck? He had a child? A child! His eyes flashed dangerously as he recalled the entry about getting rid of the… _abomination_, as Pansy had so lightly put it. Had she gotten rid of the baby? He leaned his head into his hands and thought hard.

Draco Malfoy had learned to develop a great deal of patience when it came to Pansy Parkinson. He had let go of her suspected affairs with other men, her constant selfishness and stubbornness, her excessive shopping sprees. Everything.

But this? This was going way too far.

Furious, he threw himself out of his chair and stormed up to their room, intent on finding his wife. The journal was clutched tightly in his hand, the pages wrinkling in his firm grasp.

He finally reached their room, flinging the door open as he practically ran inside, dropping the book down with a loud clatter as it hit the marble floor. Hermione awoke with a loud gasp, clinging the bed sheets to her body as Draco hauled her out of bed and pulled her up to her feet.

"Whatever is the matter with you?" she demanded angrily, trying to get out of his clutches. He just shook his head fiercely, too angry to reply. Hermione tried to push him off of her.

"You're hurting me, Draco. Let go of me!" she cried as he crushed her wrists inside of his fists. "What's _wrong_ with you? Are you drunk or something?" she demanded furiously. "Let go of me!" She squirmed, trying to twist herself out of his grip when he suddenly uttered something. She frowned.

"What?"

"Where's the baby?" he snarled.

Hermione froze. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said slowly. She let out another cry of pain as he clutched her wrists harder together and shook her.

"Don't lie to me, Pansy," hissed Draco. "I've taken too much garbage from you for my entire life, and I've let it all go. This is something that I'm not going to let go of," he said. "You _know_ how I felt about getting a baby! You _know! _How could- _How could you do this to me?"_

Hermione gulped. How did Draco know about the baby? She silently panicked inside of her head, her eyes darting wildly all over the room, unable to look at Draco's face. Her eyes darted over to where the book lay on the floor, the silver engravings glowing in the moonlight that drifted in from the window.

Oh crap.

_Oh crap._

**A/N: Well, what do you think? Please leave me a review :) can nay of you try and figure out whats going to happen next? Suggestions would be lovely! You never know, it might pop up in the next chapter! ;)**


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N: here's the next chapter! Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for all the awesome reviews! You guys rock! :)**

"Let go of me," repeated Hermione. Draco seemed unable to hear her, tightening his hold against her wrists that he had clamped together with his hands. She tried once again to wring herself out of his grasp. "Draco!" she cried again. "Let go! You're hurting me."

"Not until you explain yourself," he finally breathed out, trying to calm himself.

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it again. What was she supposed to say? She glanced at his face and then back at the floor. Oh Merlin… this was going to be terrible. What on earth could she say to him? What explanation could she give this time? She swallowed, thinking hard. She couldn't- no, no. He wouldn't believe her. It's too crazy.

Then again, they were in the wizarding world. If anything crazy was to ever happen, that was the place. She could even have Merlin in the painting back her up. She raised her eyes to meet his again. She could feel herself sinking into his silvery orbs. Memories flashed by.

Despite the situation she was in now, in all of her life, she had never believed a man could treat her so well. So… full of love. She had never been treated as well as the way Draco had treated her. Loved her, unconditionally, no matter what she threw in his way. She grimaced as she recalled the things that she did; repeatedly breaking his heart, over and over again, saying hurtful things to him, shying away from his advances against her. It had been a little over a month since she had been trapped in Pansy's body, and she had been almost completely miserable.

Almost.

Somewhere along the way, through all the things that she had been through, somewhere along the way she had fallen in love with Draco.

In love with Draco Malfoy. The boy who had made most of her life in school hell, belittling her, making her feel inferior next to pureblooded wizards. He had made her believe many a time that she was worthless, bullying her repeatedly, watching as her self-confidence crumbled before him before his very eyes. He was the boy who had watched her being tortured repeatedly by his own aunt, right in front of his very own eyes, the boy who had been the first one to ever call her a Mudblood.

It was surprising, really. How could she have loved someone who had tormented her so?

She flashed back to the many times that she had awoken with Draco lying next to her, stroking her cheek softly, or playing with a lock of her hair. She thought of all the times that he had called her beautiful, just because. She thought of all the times that he had continuously tried to please her, bringing her home anything from a bouquet of flowers to an adorable little Pygmypuff that had been enchanted to say "I love you". She thought of all the times that his mouth had formed those words, letting them slip with such ease that they rolled around his tongue as he told her again and again of how much he loved her. Her cheeks reddened as she thought of the time they had consummated their marriage.

She had never known that a man that was once so harsh and cruel could be so… gentle. So loving. So passionate.

Yes, she had to tell him the truth. It would be the right thing to do.

But what if he didn't believe her? What if… what if he wouldn't love her anymore if she revealed who she was? She silently scoffed to herself. Of course he wouldn't. She's Hermione Granger. He loved Pansy Parkinson.

But what other choice did she have? She looked straight into his the silver rings that spun around his pupils, dilated in the dim light of the room.

"I-I'm going to try and explain to you, alright?" she said after the small internal battle in her mind ceased. "But you're not going to believe a word I'm going to say now, because it's just too… well, too _bizarre_," she said, contorting her face into a small wince. Draco narrowed his eyes at her, trying to see if she was going to tell the truth.

"Okay," he said after a moment of silence. "Go ahead. Explain yourself."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She could feel her hands trembling, and she tried to still them, ignoring the pain that was coming from her wrists being grinded so hard against each other.

"I'm not who you think you are," she said slowly. Draco scoffed.

"You've got that right, Pansy," he spat. "Sometimes I don't even know who you are anymore. You just-"

"Let me finish," she interrupted him before he got into a rant. "I might have seemed different to you because… well, I'm a different person. I'm not the woman that you know and love."

Draco's furious face morphed into one that was slightly confused and horrified. "W-what are you saying? You don't feel the same way about me or something?" he asked, his eyebrows drawing together in worry. She could feel his grip on her wrists slacken. Her heart broke at his sudden forlorn expression, quickly forgetting his harsh manner to her just seconds ago.

"N-no, that's not what I meant, Draco," she stammered out quickly. "That's not what I meant at all. It's just…" she trailed off, not knowing how to continue. She glanced at the book laying on the floor before raising her eyes back at him.

"I'm not Pansy," she said finally. "I'm Hermione Granger". She watched his face intently as he froze, his body growing still. "I just woke up one day, and I was in a different bed, and a different man lying next to me," she continued. At those words, she heard something snap in Draco. He suddenly pushed her roughly, watching her through cold eyes as she fell to the floor.

"How could you?" he snarled at her. "How could you even _think_ about joking about something at a time like this, Pansy? You got rid of our child, our unborn child that had your blood and mine running through its veins. How do you feel about that, huh, Pansy? And Hermione Granger, out of all people? You have some nerve-"

"It's true," she cut him off angrily. "I'm not Pansy! I'm not your wife! I'm Hermione Granger," she said. "You just ask Harry and R-Ron," she faltered at his name, pangs of pain throbbing in her heart.

"I can't listen to this anymore," said Draco. "I'm going to the guest room. Come and talk to me when you've come back to your senses, Pansy".

"Draco, wait!" she called out. He simply rolled his eyes and stormed out of the room, making sure to slam the door hard behind him. "I love you!" she cried out. Draco paused, not turning around. His eyes pricked as they began to fill with tears before he blinked them away. "I don't know if I love you anymore," he said quietly. He knew that she could not hear him, and he leaned on the door outside.

Oh Merlin. His marriage was a disaster. Who was he kidding? Nothing was turning out right. He knew that it was alright in the beginning of their relationship, and even better after their wedding. But now…

Now it was nothing short of a horrendous disaster. She had gotten rid of their child? Their own flesh and blood? And she _knew_ how he felt about fathering a child one day. And on top of that, she had been unresponsive to him, to his affection, to his love.

_Love_.

Pah, love had no meaning anymore. At least not to him. Draco walked slowly over to the guest room and slid under the cool covers. He tossed to his right, missing the presence of a warm body lying beside him.

How could she? How could she have done this? Draco sighed deeply to himself, turning onto his back and laying an arm over his forehead. He stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. He wondered why he had become so furious at her losing the baby. He sighed again, closing his eyes.

It can't have been just the baby. It was… everything. Every tiny thing that had ever gone wrong in his marriage, his relationship… his _life_. The baby was just the straw that broke the camel's back. And to add to all of that, she had to bring up _Hermione Granger?_

She _knew_ how he had felt about her. How he had _once_ felt about her, he corrected himself. Sure, he had hated her. He had hated her so harshly and terribly that the line between hate and love had become blurred and distorted to a point where he could not deny it. He could never deny it to himself.

He had loved Hermione Granger. The insufferably smart, bushy-haired, bucktoothed mousy girl that had always been seen scurrying about the castle with a load of books tucked under her arm, dashing into classes. The girl who could always be seen shooting her hand up as fast as she could whenever someone had asked a question, earning several dozens of points for Gryffindor almost each class.

The girl who had been able to stand up to him in their second year, only to have been insulted by him and made her friend throw up slugs. The girl who had the nerve to punch him in her fury the following year as he had laughed and ridiculed her at the loss of that blasted Hippogriff, the one who had transformed into a beautiful girl in the Yule Ball, shyly clutching Viktor Krum's arm as he led her onto the dance floor as they strode past him and Pansy. The girl he had turned in on their fifth year to Dolores Umbridge after joining into the group Dumbledore's Army.

He had tortured and ridiculed her continuously with his boyish and childish antics, resenting her for every grade that she had achieved that had beaten his. He had watched her get literally tortured again and again by his aunt in their seventh year, demanding to know how she had gotten some blasted sword. She was the girl who had never let him forget that he had been Transfigured into a ferret. She was the girl who was the mastermind behind the downfall of Voldemort.

She was the girl who had died just a month ago.

He did not dare reveal how he had truly felt about her the day he had read about it in the paper, her smiling face staring back at him mirthfully as he ironically read about her death.

Is it possible to love two people at once?

His head hurt. He exhaled slowly, opening his eyes again. No. He loved Pansy. It's always been Pansy.

But how could she? _How could she have the gall to even mention her name to him? _

Turning to his side, his fretful mind slowed down and he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Draco awoke with a start. Something had disturbed his sleep. He was about to go back to sleep when he heard a faint sound coming from somewhere. He frowned, yawning as he sat up. "Honey, I think someone's in the manor. I'm going to go see if-" he stopped when he turned to his side to see that no one was there.<p>

Oh. Right.

He yawned, getting up slowly from where he was lying as he stretched his limbs out. Suddenly, he felt something in his brain click. His eyes snapped open as realization hit him.

Someone was in the house.

Pansy was not with him.

Someone that was in the house could be with Pansy right now.

He sprang out of bed, not bothering to put on a dressing gown or a pair of pants over his boxers as he ran towards their room as fast as he could. He threw the door open, dashing inside to see if she was alright. His eyes flashed towards the bed, his heart stopping as he saw the bed empty. He ran inside the room, going over to the door where the bathroom was.

"Pansy?" he called out frantically. "Pansy? Pansy, answer me right now-" he stopped talking as the door hit something solid. He squeezed himself into the bathroom and checked to see what the door hit. The sight that met his eyes made his blood stop cold.

There, lying on the floor, was Hermione Granger.

And she was coughing up blood.

**A/N: Curious to see what's going to happen next? I know I am. Fortunately for me, I'm the one writing the plot; therefore I know what's going to happen next. You guys, on the other hand, need to leave me a few dozen reviews or so to encourage me to write and update faster (: ah yes, the joys of being an author :P love you all! Please continue reviewing my story :D **

**Any suggestions as to what is going to happen next? Leave a review, you never know. You could be right ;) or I might realize that your suggestion is better than what I had in mind and might end up using that instead! :)**


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N: Sorry for the delay you guys! Anyway here you go! Enjoy and PLEASE PLEASE LEAVEA REVIEW! :D**

"What the-"

Hermione lifted her head to look up at him, throwing her arm over her mouth as another coughing fit rippled violently through her chest. "Go away," she managed to say as she paused for a moment, trying to catch her breath as the coughing had seemed to cease for the moment. She let out a tired groan as she felt her breath hitch once more in her throat. Bracing herself, she took in a deep breath, trying to still the coughs.

Draco stood at the doorway for a moment, dumbfounded. Hermione Granger? Hermione Granger in his bathroom? He was ripped out of his daze as another round of coughs began.

"Where's Pansy?" he shot as he crouched down beside her and conjured one of her slippers into a handkerchief and pressed it to her mouth.

"I don't know," she replied. "She hasn't-" she stopped talking as another round of coughs began. He pressed the handkerchief to her mouth again. Not bothering to shake off any of his efforts, she put her hand over his to hold the handkerchief in place as she leaned forward, doubling over.

"Let's get you off of the floor," said Draco. "It's cold, and it's only going to make you worse. I'm going to call for a Healer and-"

"No," said Hermione, shaking her head frantically. "No?" he echoed. "You're crazy! You're coughing up blood, for crying out loud, we're getting you a bloody Healer, and then you can proceed to explain what you're doing here… Alive," he said shortly.

Hermione shook her head again. She opened her mouth to say something when she felt her breath hitch again. Draco, hearing her breath, flicked his wand at her, making her suddenly appear on the bed under the covers. He rubbed his hand over where her feet were under the covers to warm her up. Merlin, she had cold feet! She must have been on the floor for a good part of an hour, he mused as he rubbed her feet, trying to create friction.

Crazy woman.

Her coughing ceased once more. He tried to ignore the dribble of blood that was on the side of her mouth.

"Er, so you're really Herm- Granger?" asked Draco sheepishly after a moment of awkward silence. Hermione let out a deep sigh and leaned her back on the headboard of the bed, closing her eyes.

"Yes, you idiot," she said tiredly. "That's what I tried telling you before but noo-"

"Wait. How is this possible?" Draco cut her off, narrowing his eyes. "Hermione Granger is dead. She was buried a month ago," he paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at her.

"That's what I was trying to explain to you a couple of hours ago," she huffed. "I'm not Pansy, I'm Hermione."

"So where is my wife?" he asked her.

Hermione gulped. Oh Merlin. How was she supposed to explain Pansy to him?

"Well, you see, I-"

She stopped talking as she felt a sharp blast of pain in her side. She moved her arm to her side to alleviate the pain, her eyes prickling as tears shot to her eyes as she realised something.

She was running out of time.

"You need to call Harry," she told him quickly. She moved her hand away from her side to see it painted in blood.

"You're hurt," exclaimed Draco as he saw her examining her hand. "What the hell do you want Potter for? I'm getting you that blasted Healer."

"Draco," she said, grabbing one of his hands to pull herself off of bed. "I need you to get Harry for me, or I'm going to get him myself."

"What's going on exactly? I don't understand! Did you cut yourself when you fell on the bathroom floor or something? And where is Pansy?" his voice grew more panicked.

"I don't know, alright? I don't know what's going on exactly! Your wife is dead, and now I'm dying. I need Harry. I need you to get Harry," she said desperately.

Draco froze as he registered her words in his mind. Pansy… dead? Guilt stabbed through him. Their last encounter had ended him slamming the door and sleeping in a separate room. He should have saved that moment, cherishing her in his arms rather than spewing out spiteful words to her. Dead…

Her words pierced through his heart. Dead. Pansy, dead.

"_What?_"

Hermione turned her head to face his as she realized what had slipped out of her mouth. Her eyes widened in horror.

"Oh.. Oh Merlin, Draco. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for you to find out about her this way, I-"

"What the hell did you do, witch?" he snarled at her, lunging forward at her. "I know you had something to do with this. You can't have just showed up automatically like that. I know you had something to do with this. Where is she?" his words shot out of his mouth, one after the other as he grew more frantic, trying to digest everything at once. "WHERE IS PANSY?"

"I DON'T KNOW! STOP YELLING AT ME, BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW," Hermione yelled back at him, tears leaking out the corner of her eyes.

Draco was about to yell back at her when his eyes focused on the white material of the sheets lying on top of her body; white sheets that were rapidly blooming into a violent shade of crimson. He yanked the sheets down off of her to see that her side was fully soaked in blood, a hole ripped through her pyjamas that supposedly looked like a bullet-hole.

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at her side. Speechless, she looked back up at Draco. He looked back at her, just as speechless as she was.

"I'm taking you to St. Mungo's," he said firmly.

"I-I…" She trailed off as her eyes drooped down. She looked back at Draco once more before falling limp on the floor.

"Hermione?" he said, slapping her cheeks lightly. "Hermione wake up, you annoying beaver." He sat in front of her, growing increasingly worried as she did not respond to him. Alarmed, he scooped her up in his arms and rushed over to the fireplace, throwing a handful of Floo powder in.

"St. Mungo's," he said quickly, disappearing in a rush of emerald flames.

He arrived with a swift whoosh in front of a very white environment. Rushing out of the fireplace, he ran to the desk where a plump, cheerful old lady stood.

"Hello, Sir. What can I do for you today?" she asked cheerfully. Draco resisted the urge to pull his hair out of his roots.

"I need some help over here," he said hurriedly. "She's lost a lot of blood and I think she's unconscious."

"Oh my," exclaimed the plump lady as her eyes landed on Hermione lying in his arms. She flicked her wand to the air, sending short blasts of coloured sparks and sirens. Almost immediately, he was engulfed by a dozen Healers rushing towards him. They took Hermione away from him and set her on a gurney, rushing her away to another room.

"She's been shot," exclaimed one Healer as they wheeled her away. Draco lifted an eyebrow, confused. Shot?

"Excuse me," he said as he walked over to the Healer. "But did you say that she was shot?"

The Healer looked at him, seeming to be annoyed. "Sir, let me do my job to help save this woman," she said as she quickly conjured up a bag of blood and hooked it up to her.

"No, she can't be shot," insisted Draco. "I was with her. She was on the bathroom floor, I think she must have fallen and hit something or-"

"We've got the bullet out," reported another Healer, holding up a bullet in a pair of tweezers and dropping it into a metal bin. "Now proceeding to sanitize the area".

Draco stood in shock. How was that possible?

"Sir, we need you to provide us with information. What's the patient's name?"

"Er- Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger?" repeated the Healer.

"By Merlin, it's Hermione Granger!" a Healer exclaimed as he closely examined her face, brushing the curls away.

"Someone call Mr Potter and Mr Weasely, now," reported the Healer that was talking to Draco. "And Sir, you need to come with me," she nodded at him warily. Had he shot her or something? This made no sense…

"No," said Draco. "I'm staying right here. She has the answers to where my wife is. She has to! She-"

"Where is she?" a dishevelled Harry stumbled out of nowhere, wearing a pair of striped pyjama pants with a night cap propped on his head.

"Right this way, Mr Potter," another Healer propelled him towards the room where Hermione was in.

"Potter!" Draco pulled away from the Healer and followed him inside. "Potter! What the hell is going on? Did you know about any of this?"

"She's reliving her death," said Harry tiredly as he stood by where she lay on the gurney. He knew that she didn't have much time left before the second shot would go through her back, effectively killing her. Again.

"What the hell do you mean, reliving her death?" he exclaimed. "What happened? I thought she was dead a month ago!"

Harry looked sadly at Draco, not knowing how to explain to that man that his wife was dead, and had been dead for a month, rather than a couple of hours as he had believed, and that Hermione had somehow taken her place.

"You have to come with me," said Harry slowly. "I have a lot to tell you."

"Wait, but what about Granger?" asked Draco. "You want to just leave her there while she's dying?"

Just as the sentence left his mouth, he saw Hermione's body jerk upwards from her back.

"What in Merlin's name…? Turn her around, there's something wrong," cried another Healer.

"Merlin!" gasped a Healer. "Another shot wound?" A panicked movement amongst the Healers took place as they flipped her over, trying to control the damage. "We're losing her," said another Healer. "Bag her." The two men stood aside as another team of Healers rushed towards them with a tube and bag and tried to put it down her throat.

Harry looked behind him at the gurney where she was lying, surrounded by Healers as they tried to stabilize her. "I do not want to go through the pain of losing my best friend once more. I've been through it once. She's said her goodbyes to me a long time ago," he said slowly.

Draco stared at the man. His green eyes had vines of red surrounding his irises, rapidly growing larger and larger with each passing minute.

"Charging to 100," announced a Healer. The sound of panels charging up sounded through the halls as they stripped her shirt off and placed the panels on her chest. Her body jerked upwards once more as 100 volts of electricity was fired at her heart.

No response.

"Charge it up to 200," barked the Healer as he rubbed the panels together. "Charging to 200," announced the other Healer as the first Healer pressed the panels to her chest once more. The flat sound of an ECG detecting a still heart filled the hallway.

Time stood still for a moment.

"We lost her," gasped a Healer afterwards, wiping his brow as another Healer gently removed the tubing from her mouth. "Call it," he ordered another Healer, pulling off his gloves slowly.

"Time of death, 4:37 AM," said a Healer quietly. He was about to pull the sheet over her head when he heard an anguished yell behind him. He turned to see Draco rushing to her body on the gurney. Kneeling by her side, he grabbed her wrist and wrapped another hand around her limp one, shaking her arm frantically. "No! No! Come back! Come-"

"Draco," Harry's voice came from behind him. "There's nothing you can do. She's gone. Her time was extended well beyond what it was supposed to." He clasped a hand on his shoulder, his eyes filling with tears. Draco turned around and looked at Harry right in the eye.

"You had something to tell me?" he asked, his voice suddenly going cold, trembling with the weight of a million emotions at once. Harry nodded and led him outside, ready to break the man who had loved his best friend unknowingly throughout their childhood years and into their adult ones.

**A/N: Is this the end? PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!**


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**A/N: Okay, a lot of reviews showed that everyone was kinda confused about the last chapter, so I'm adding this one and hopefully it will clear things up!**

Draco's mind was reeling from all of the information he had come to know of just minutes ago. It was a lot to take in, and he was incapable of doing anything else other than stare at the floor unseeingly, a whirl of memories flashing before him in his mind's eye. Harry sighed, leaning on the wall beside him. A horde of Healers rushed past them, levitating a man who kept yelling "cockroaches will rule the world one day! They will rule the world!" over and over again. Draco momentarily eyed the man wearily before walking past Harry and out the doors of St. Mungo's.

"Draco," called out Harry, following him outside. He put a hand on his shoulder, not knowing what to say. He had just told the man that he had lost everything. His wife, his unborn child.

Hermione.

He felt sorry for the man. He truly did not like the blonde haired man, but he felt sorry for him. He could not imagine what was going through his head at the moment, or what he was feeling. Draco stood still, his head still facing the ground.

"I loved her," Draco said suddenly. "I always did. She was my wife, my best friend, my companion… She was everything to me. And she was gone for an entire month with her body taken over by someone else… and I never even knew. You would think I would have noticed," he said bitterly. "I guess in a way I suspected something was up, because Pansy was acting so different… She transformed into someone completely different, someone who I had loved a very long time ago… it reignited something inside of me… And now…" he trailed off. Harry opened his mouth and then closed it, not knowing what to say to that. What could he possibly say to any of that?

"I have to go," he continued. Harry nodded, his hand suddenly dropping from its place on Draco's shoulder as he disappeared into thin air with a loud crack.

Draco stumbled into the front sitting room, his eyes blurring as he angrily wiped at them with tightly clenched fists. His shins met the surface of the couch in the sitting room and he collapsed onto it, curling up into a ball as he finally let the tears flow down his cheeks and drip down onto the couch, staining the soft velvet material.

Images of Pansy fell into his mind; an eleven year old girl pulling his hand in excitement to see the Giant Squid for the first time in the lake of Hogwarts, Pansy at sixteen, sitting by his side in the cold Slytherin common room, their hands entwined. Pansy dressed in an extravagant white gown, walking down an aisle littered with rose petals.

And then all of a sudden, Hermione. A bushy haired, buck-toothed skinny little girl who somehow managed to push all of his buttons by shooting her hand up at every single question a professor would ask, reciting the answer perfectly and correctly every time. The first time he had realized that she was a girl in their fourth year as she nervously held onto Viktor Krum's arm in a periwinkle dress, her hair curling delicately down her back.

Hermione screaming on the floor of his current study in their seventh year, her eyes glinting dangerously at his aunt as she pointed her wand at her again and again. His heart clenched terribly as he recalled her falling limp, and then her body being held up with a knife pressed into her neck.

His mind suddenly switched back to Pansy, except these were more recent memories. Memories that he realized was Hermione's soul inhabiting his wife's body. He had to admit, he thought resentfully, he had never been so miserable in the entirety of his marriage, but he had also never felt so connected to his wife before.

Another tear rolled down his face, dripping from the tip of his nose and onto the couch once more, a large wet stain momentarily marring the fabric.

"If only I had one more chance…" he moaned to himself loudly. "I would do it all over again, just… I want her back," he pleaded, not knowing exactly to whom he was pleading to, or which "she" he was referring to. "I want her back; just give me one more chance!"

Merlin was seated in his chair, sadly watching the broken man from across the room crying his eyes out. In all of his years in Malfoy Manor, he had not once seen the boy cry. Not once. His eyes widened as realization stabbed through him: this was the end of the Malfoy line. Something must be done…

Merlin leaned back in his chair, contemplating the situation. He cast a glance at his withered staff, the blue ball glowing brightly in its place, but there was a slight flicker in its otherwise steady glow. He blinked. That was not possible-

Another flicker.

Surely he could…

But no, it was against the rules. Heaven knows what happened when that tiny glitch occurred, sending Hermione Granger's soul pummelling into Pansy Parkinson's body, the mess it had caused and created. If he used his powers to tweak nature's course by changing _everything_, mayhem could ensue. Who knows what could happen if he brought Hermione Granger back from the dead by changing time and it's circumstances by just a couple of hours.

His blue eyes pierced the man. It could be the end of pureblooded magic as the wizarding world knew it. There was a reason why the prejudice and belief that pureblooded wizards were better than muggleborns, there was a grain of truth in it. The roots of magic lay inside of pureblooded lines, dating all the way back to him, Merlin. He had the power to save her. To save the Malfoy line.

So why not?

With a grave sigh, he waved his staff at Draco, watching as his body slumped forwards into a deep slumber. He gave another wave of the staff, the magic ball twirling round and round, faster and faster… He closed his eyes as he felt the world shift around him.

And then he opened them.

It was bright and warm, the sun was filtering through the glass and into the sitting room, lighting up the entire room. Everything was familiar, yet he could sense a change in the atmosphere. He glanced at his staff, his eyes landing on the magic ball that was glowing ever so brightly.

"'Mione!" he heard a voice call from somewhere. He smiled.

"Here's your second chance, Draco," Merlin murmured to himself. With that, he leaned back in his chair again and his eyes fluttered shut, snores thundering through the sitting room.

**A/N: Is anyone still confused? Hopefully this clears things up..**


	17. Epilogue

**A/N: SORRY SORRY FOR THE LATE UPDATE! But here you go! Hope you all enjoy, and thanks for sticking with me until the end! Thoughts for a sequel coming up.. let me know if I should write one or not? :)**

"'Mione!"

"Mmm?"

"'Mione, wake up."

A mumbled "no" came out as a response. Draco smiled at his wife, shaking her gently as he tried to awaken her. "Come on, love, you're going to be late for work," he said to her in a singsong voice. He muffled a chuckle as Hermione suddenly shot up from her place in bed, her hair frazzled. "I'm going to be late for work?" she gasped as she scrambled out of bed, running to the bathroom.

"This is your fault," she called from the shower. "If you hadn't seduced me yesterday into-" the rest of her words were drowned in the sound of running water as she turned on the tap.

Draco merely chuckled again as he rolled lazily out of bed, pulling a pair of shorts up his legs and around his waist. He made his way in between scattered items of clothing on the floor and strolled casually inside of the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush from the sink counter.

"Aren't you going to get ready to go to work today?" asked Hermione as she stuck her head out of the glass surrounding the shower. Draco shook his head no as he squirted toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

"Oh? Why not?"

"Saturday," shrugged Draco, hiding a smirk as he heard the smack of wet feet on the tile storming towards him. He looked at her reflection in the mirror, clumps of shampoo bubbling on her hair and a sponge covered in foam.

"Saturday?" she said slowly.

"Saturday," Draco confirmed solemnly.

"I don't have work on Saturdays!" she cried.

"I know that," said Draco, not being able to hide his smirk anymore.

"You little-"

"Ah, ah," he teased her as he grabbed her by her arms as she was about to bring down the sponge on his head. He pulled her arms to wrap around his waist and lowered his head to place a kiss on her nose, smiling as she pulled angrily away from him and stomped outside of the bathroom.

"I'm going back to bed," she called behind her as she stopped to don on a dressing gown.

"You haven't even finished showering yet, though," said Draco, amused as he followed her back into the bedroom. "Don't care," said Hermione as she sank into the mattress, burying her face in a pillow. He smiled and walked over to the bed and slipped his arms under her body, lifting her up. She squealed in surprise.

"You're getting soap and shampoo all over the bed, you know," said Draco seriously. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, looking nervously at the floor.

"Put me down, Draco! You're going to drop me!"

"Come on, that was one time!"

"Yeah, on our wedding night!" she said, shifting her body against his so that she was leaning on him. He tightened his arms around her and grinned cheekily. "I told you to lay off the cake at the reception, but _nooo-_ hey!"

"You deserve it," she harrumphed. "Don't think I won't pull your hair again," she said.

"You know, I think you're getting a little too heavy for me again…" he trailed off playfully as he pretended to let her slip. She squealed again, clutching at him even tighter. "Don't you dare, Malfoy," she said dangerously.

"Kiss me, then, _Malfoy_," he retorted, grinning even wider as she leaned her head towards his and kissed his cheek. He moved his head to the side and captured her lips instead, settling her back on the bed. She stood on her knees, balancing on the mattress as she reached upwards to place her hands behind his head and deepened the kiss as he stood on the floor in front of her.

His hand was about to trail down her side when she moved away and smirked at him before turning around swiftly and landing on her pillow, closing her eyes.

"That's not fair," he whined. He tugged at her leg and pulled her off of the bed, her body landing with a loud thump on the floor.

"Oh, you did it now," she said, getting up and tightening her dressing gown around herself. Draco grinned again and without warning, blew a big raspberry on her face before bolting out of the door.

She let out a shriek of surprise before running after him downstairs and past the sitting room, passing dozens of paintings on the way that were either covering up their eyes or staring blatantly at the woman who raced down the halls after her husband.

"OH BLOODY HELL-" cried Merlin from his painting, throwing his arms over his face. "COVER UP YOUR WOMAN, DRACO!" he called after the couple.

"You're right," Draco said, laughing as he suddenly turned around and captured her in his arms once more. She squealed again, giggling as he secured her dressing gown and kissed her once more, his arm circling around her waist and settling on her stomach. He suddenly pulled away, his eyes wide. His wife's eyes mirrored his, her mouth in a circle of surprise.

"Did you feel that?" she whispered. Draco nodded, putting his hands over her stomach properly. They both let out a gasp simultaneously as they felt another kick from her belly.

"He's kicking!" she said, her eyes welling up with tears. He nodded; chuckling as a third kick came.

Merlin reclined in his plush red chair, twirling his staff in one hand, the ball of magic glowing brighter than ever as he smiled at the couple before him.

"I guess I did good, giving him a second chance," he said to himself contently.

**A/N: It's over! To explain the last line, **"I guess I did good, giving him a second chance," **it's not a typo, I meant that Merlin gave **_**Draco**_** another chance at love and life. Hope you guys enjoyed this story, and thanks for sticking with me this long, even though I took FOREVER to upload the last couple of months! PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW? And a few thoughts for a sequel is coming up.. let me know if I should write one up or not? :) **


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